


Along these lines

by al3th3ia_ous1a_apor1a



Series: Build It Better [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Faberry, Not kind to Finn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 53,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26137513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al3th3ia_ous1a_apor1a/pseuds/al3th3ia_ous1a_apor1a
Summary: Quinn/Rachel. Faberry.The night you see those 2 pink lines, you feel your heart stop. Your world spins and you don't at all remember how you end up in Quinn Fabray's arms.*Not kind to Finn.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Series: Build It Better [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048909
Comments: 86
Kudos: 115





	1. So it begins

**Author's Note:**

> Migrating here to include commissioned illustrations, also because a03's set up is so much more conducive to editing.

The night you see those 2 pink lines, you feel your heart stop. Your world spins and you don't at all remember how you end up in Quinn Fabray's arms. You don't remember sitting outside Quinn's dorm building for hours in the cold until Quinn stumbles upon you on the stoop, confused and bewildered by your presence. You don't remember how you tell Quinn that you're pregnant, nor do you remember how Quinn replies. All you remember, all that you know of that night is that it is in Quinn's arms that you break.  
\---

The morning you tell Brody, it rains. You tell him at the café across the street over a cup of hot chocolate. He turns pale and sputters nonsense that flies by you as you watch the crying of the city you've always dreamed of. There are people running everywhere trying to find shelter in the midst of the sudden downpour, and a young child hopping over puddles, laughing gleefully as he ignores his mother's frantic cries to get under the canopy with her, catches your eye. The mischievous glint in his eyes remind you of Quinn, and you feel a sudden indescribable longing that it makes your heart ache, and it snaps your attention back to Brody, sitting across from you still pale and still sputtering. You take pity on him. You remember patting him on the hand before leaving, but you don't remember what it is you tell him before you walk out the door. It doesn't matter, you decide. All you really want to remember from that day is how beautifully your city cried.  
\---

Your fathers cry when you tell them. They hold on to each other as they do, as the world seemingly crashes down on them. You hold your own feelings in, your own disappointment, your own fears. You got yourself into this mess, this is your fault entirely, and really, the least you can do is pretend you're brave and strong.

Finn, too, cries when you tell him, but he also yells. He tells you that you've ruined everything, that you've ruined any hope for your future together. You don't know what Santana is doing in your home that night, but you're grateful when she takes you in her arms, and for a moment, just for a moment you are allowed reprieve from pretending you're strong. Santana allows you to fall apart.  
\---

The day you file for a leave of absence from NYADA, you come home to find Quinn preparing dinner in the kitchen as Kurt rambles on excitedly. You are surprised to see her, pleasantly so, you find, and for the first time in the weeks since you've found out that you are pregnant, you realize you don't feel as though your life has ended. The zucchini Quinn is baking makes your mouth water, your stomach rumble; and as Quinn's eyes sparkle just so when they meet yours and her mouth curves into a smile, you finally, finally allow your hands to rest on your stomach, gently running the pad of your thumb over where you know your baby is. _We're going to be okay._ You tell her. _We're going to be okay._  
\---

It isn't until a month later that you find out that Quinn has transferred to NYU and is moving to New York for good. You stumble upon the information when after a trip to the grocery store to pick up spinach and cabbages after your shift at the café, you walk in on Quinn and Santana arguing quite loudly. You don't hear much, only that you're all apparently moving to a larger apartment and Santana is insisting she get her own room as Quinn insists it isn't possible with the insane rent in New York City. They stop when you walk in, Quinn shooting daggers at Santana who looks glumly back at her, lips drawn tightly as though she's using all the self-restraint she has to keep from firing back. You are amused, but you pretend you've heard nothing.

News of the move doesn't surprise you, and you decide you don't want to know why Quinn has chosen to leave Yale for NYU. You know it's selfish and self-centered, but you don't care. Having Quinn and Santana around makes you feel safer than you have in months and little matters outside of the fact that you don't quite feel so alone when they are there.

It doesn't surprise you at all either that somehow, Santana manages to find an apartment that's actually big enough for the four of you. Quinn shoots her questioning looks all day but the secretive smile on Santana's face never wavers, and you decide you kind of already know how she managed to do what she has when you see the landlord's daughter. It doesn't faze you either, and you realize that nothing much fazes you these days. You are just so full of gratitude that your friends have all tried to help you through this.  
\---

You don't understand why the morning sickness doesn't only not go away in the first 3 months but seems to worsen further in your second trimester. You also don't understand why it is called morning sickness when it's in the middle of the night that you find yourself hugging the toilet. It is Quinn that rubs your back as she blinks blearily under the harsh lights of the bathroom. It's Quinn that makes you hot milk when you are hungry or tea to help your stomach settle. It is she that leads you back to your room, tucks you into bed and runs her fingers through your hair, staying with you until you fall asleep.

When you enter your third trimester, the nausea finally ceases and you find that you miss Quinn taking care of you in the middle of the night. The first time you sleep in Quinn's room, you cry. You're 7 months along and you're exhausted, lonely, afraid and just plain hormonal. You fall asleep to Quinn rubbing your back, singing softly, and in a sleepy haze, you think that her voice is one of the most beautiful things you've ever heard. Her voice lulling you to sleep that night is something you never forget.  
\---

The first time you see your daughter, your heart stops once again and your world spins. Quinn is crying quietly next to you and all you can think is that you don't feel anything at all. You trail a finger on her face, from her forehead to her nose down to her chin. You will her to open her eyes but she doesn't. You look at her, silent. You don't know what to do, you don't know what to feel. You don't feel anything, you just don't, and briefly you wonder how it is possible that you have just given life to this little girl and yet you feel _nothing._ Your life has been ruined by this little thing, this little girl that is yours, and you feel nothing. But then a hand clasps tightly on to your finger and just like that your heart starts to beat again and your world stops spinning. You know it's a reflex, the grasping reflect. You've read it somewhere, but that bit of knowledge does nothing to diminish the joy your heart threatens to burst with as your daughter responds to you. You'll conquer the world, you just know it, the two of you together, you'll make it.  
\---

The day you take her home, Kurt throws you a little party. It's just the 4 of you and your fathers, but Kurt has decorated the house with a smattering of white and purple flowers and balloons and has hung up a streamer saying _"Welcome home, Samantha!"_ and you find that despite how tired you are, you are grateful.

When your fathers leave, it is Quinn you hand Samantha to as you get yourself ready for bed. She doesn't wake from sleep when you get back from the bathroom and without a word, you drag Quinn to your bed, and for the first time, you hold _her_ in your arms. When you feel her melt into you as you both fall asleep, you think that now you aren't pretending to be strong anymore, and that it's your turn to take care of her.  
\---

The first time you kiss her, she's kneeling by the tub giving Samantha a bath. She is supposed to be getting the baby ready for her first trip out into the city, and you walk in to find her and your daughter giggling, shirt soaked through, soapy suds in her hair and water all over the bathroom floor. Quinn is holding Samantha up, and the adoring look on her face fills your heart with warmth and happiness and when she looks at you and pulls you towards them, you can't help but touch her lips with yours.

You are relieved that she doesn't pull away, and pleased that when you do pull apart, she rests her forehead against yours, holding Samantha between you two. You feel at peace in that moment, you feel as though nothing can touch you.

Your hands don't leave hers for more than a few minutes the rest of the day.  
\---

Kurt moves out of the apartment you share with Quinn and Santana, a few weeks later, and in with Clark, a boy he's seemingly fallen madly in love with, and you don't hear from him until Samantha's first birthday. He's busy with Clark, and you don't begrudge him for disappearing. They're in the honeymoon phase, you think. He owes you nothing and he deserves to be happy. You can't help but wonder though if Kurt's really forgotten Blaine, if it's possible that he's really over him. But it isn't really your business, and you decide it doesn't really matter either, not for as long as Kurt is still happy.

You do well in your classes. You perform with a depth and passion you've never before been capable of and you shine brighter than you ever have. You start to feel like your old self. You start to remember the unwavering confidence, the drive. The praise, the applause, the high, the calling of the stage, it is reawakened in your blood and you feel invincible.  
\---

Samantha grows beautifully. She is happy and bright and healthy. She doesn't sleep without her flounder plushie and can be captivated by Disney's _The Little Mermaid_ for hours on end. She loves carrot and apple baby food and abhors squash. Central Park is her most favorite place, and Quinn has walked with her there, bundled up like a ball on many cold nights when her first teeth have started to grow in. You don't get to go often. You're far too busy with your classes, auditions, rehearsals and getting to know everyone who is anyone in the business.  
\---

You come home one night to Santana and Quinn arguing in barely hushed voices. You don't know what it's about and you really don't want to know. You catch only snippets and when you walk in, they quiet. Quinn is red, shaking. Santana's eyes are flashing and you can feel the tension, the anger. Santana starts to open her mouth to say something to you, but a look from Quinn shuts her up. She glares at you, stomps off to her bedroom and slams the door.

It startles your daughter and you go to Quinn's room, which has served as a nursery since the night you brought her home. You pick her up, kiss her on the head, inhaling her powder sweet scent. You sit down on the rocking chair, a gift from your fathers, trying to soothe her with song. She doesn't calm. You stand, turn on the mobile from her crib, trying to distract her with the lights and the colors and the lullaby that it plays. She only cries harder.

Quinn finally walks in and she takes Samantha from your arms. Quinn bounces her, getting her attention and at the sight of her, Samantha finally calms. She hiccups, burying her face in Quinn's chest, and you can't help but feel a twinge of hurt that your own daughter doesn't respond to you as she does to Quinn.  
\---

Santana is gone by the end of the month. You want to ask Quinn what happened, why Santana didn't even tell you goodbye or explain why she was leaving, but you don't. You are afraid she will confirm your suspicions that Santana's leaving had to do with you. So instead you ask her how you two can afford the apartment with both Kurt and Santana gone. She tells you you can't and that you'll have to find a new place.

You spend a weekend with her and Samantha looking for a new apartment. You only look for 2 days and it exhausts and depresses you. The last you look at is the only one that is within your budget, and is not, fortunately, in a dangerous neighborhood. The kitchen is tiny, many of the tiles have cracked, the paint on the walls is faded and most of it is stained the color of rust. It smells faintly of cat shit and urine, and the second you walk in, you turn back around to promptly walk out. Quinn doesn't let you. "It's safe here. It's not too far." She tells you, gripping your arm tightly. "It's the only one we can afford."

You take the apartment.

You're busy with school and it's Quinn who manages the move. You stay in your apartment for as long as you can, drawing out your stay until the advance and security deposits are consumed, until only a blow-up mattress and suitcase of your clothes are left to be moved to the new apartment.

You are confused when you walk into the building. It's different from the last time you were there—it's cleaner, brighter. You walk back out and check the address just to be sure. You almost pass out when you walk into your apartment. The walls have been repainted, the kitchen re-tiled. Quinn smiles warmly beside you, happily bouncing Samantha in her arms. 

"I talked to the owner. Marshall lost his scholarship and he really needs the money. He's really good with his hands." She tells you. You don't remember who Marshall is, someone from one of her classes, you think. "With the work he's done, they can finally increase the rent, except ours, of course, and all it cost was a few buckets of paint and a box of tiles."

You don't respond, you don't know how to. She's done this, all of this. She's figured out some way to make everything better, and in that moment, you realize you're standing in your new apartment, your new home with Quinn Fabray— _Quinn Fabray,_ the captain of the cheerios, is standing there with you holding your daughter in her arms showing you that she has managed to turn a _catastrophe_ into a _home._

Quinn makes your heart hurt. She makes it beat fast, she makes it stop, she makes it spin wildly in your chest. That night, you make love to her. You touch her with everything you feel. You kiss her with everything you're unable to say. You hold her with everything you fear, with all your gratitude and with all your hope.

When Samantha cries that night, it is Quinn that goes to soothe her. You burrow in the warmth that she leaves, and you allow yourself to cry from the intensity of all the emotions you feel but cannot name.  
\---

Samantha's first word isn't _mama,_ or _Rachel_ or _Quinn_ —it's _please._ Quinn hits her head on the cupboard and you drop the coffee cup you're holding and it shatters on the floor. You stare at Samantha, eyes wide, willing her to speak again. 

She does. 

"Please." She holds her arms out towards the apple juice sitting in front of her. Looking at Quinn, she says it again—"Please." 

Quinn laughs. The sound startles you and it makes you jump. Your eyes meet and you too can't stop the grin that spreads on your face. Your daughter is _perfect,_ you think. Your daughter is _perfect._  
\---

You spend more time at school than ever before and it doesn't surprise you when Samantha calls both you and Quinn _'Momma.'_ She and Quinn are asleep most nights that you get home, and even at that, you barely have time to have breakfast with them before you're breezing out the door again. You miss her, and you miss Quinn, but New York and the stage are your dream. Once everything settles, you decide, you'll have much more time. You have to make up for the year you've lost, for everything that almost slipped through your fingers.

You fail to take into account what Quinn has given up, the sacrifices she has made in creating this home, this family, this life for you and your daughter. All you think of is how you cannot fall again.  
\---

You jump out of your seat on the couch when you see Quinn come up on a new television series. You know she is taking fewer units that semester because of a new job she's gotten but she's refused to tell you what it is until that night. She has positioned you in front of the TV and finally, she shows you. Words fail you as your head swivels back and forth to the image of her on screen and her physical body beside you. "Quinn," You manage to breathe out. "Quinn!" 

She smiles at you shyly. "I never could sing as well as you or Kurt or Tana. But I've always been interested in acting…" 

You kiss her because you don't know what else to do. You're so proud of her, proud of how far you've both come, proud of what you have both achieved. 

Her eyes sparkle and her voice grows soft. "We won't have to worry about preschool," she tells you. 

You kiss her again to keep yourself from crying.


	2. Keeping hell at bay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, you guys! So this is fun! Faberry might just be my OTP so getting to connect with other shippers has got me ridiculous levels of excited again, especially since the height of this ship was the early 2010's. 
> 
> Thank you for the comments, I do appreciate them. It's always fun to find out what readers are thinking and feeling.

The day it all goes to hell is the day you see Finn Hudson again. 

It has been five years since you last saw him and the sight of him burns a hole in your heart. It engulfs your very being and it sets you aflame. You don't know what you are thinking. You feel possessed. You don't know if you are angry, if the love you once felt for him is rekindled or if being with him simply makes you feel powerful again.

You have sex with him that night in his hotel room. He apologizes to you, over and over, and you find that you believe him when he says he's tried to forget you all these years but couldn't. He wants to try again— you're end game he tells you.

You don't respond to him but when he asks to see you the next day, you give him your address as you slip on your shoes and coat to leave.

You don't know what you are thinking, what you intended to do, how you intended for her to _act,_ how you expected her to _react,_ how you expected her to _feel_ —but you tell Quinn. Her eyes rake over your body as you enter the door and the smile on her face is wiped as her eyes dim in worry. You look at her silently, willing her to see what you've done.

She is flustered and confused and she doesn't see, she doesn't understand. She pops a movie into the player, sits Samantha on the couch, tucking a blanket around her before she drags you into the bedroom. Her hands run over you, checking if you are okay, and it's the first time you feel any sort of guilt. You tell her then.

She shakes her head but doesn't respond. She makes to speak but nothing comes out. She keeps shaking her head, it's as though her mind won't let her make sense of what you've told her, of what you've done. You pray she doesn't say your name as you realize in that moment that you're merely hanging by a thread.

She leaves soon after and you're thankful that Samantha has fallen asleep in the middle of her movie. She snuggles into you as you carry her into her bedroom. You know Quinn won't be home that night. But you wait anyway and silently pray that she comes back.  
She doesn't.  
\---

When Finn comes in the morning, your make-up is perfectly done, your dress pressed, your hair in perfect waves. He brings you flowers and a pack of gummy bears for your daughter. He seems to like Samantha, and Samantha seems to like him. You want to cry when he holds her up in the air and she squeals in delight at being able to fly. You order Chinese because you really don't know your way around the kitchen, and Finn and Samantha laugh throughout the meal as he does impressions of cartoon characters. Finn slips his arm around you as the three of you sit on the couch to watch one of Samantha's many animated films. You keep yourself from flinching. Nothing has gone wrong, yet none of it feels _right._

Only 10 minutes into the movie and Samantha is pulling at your hand. "Momma," she tells you plaintively.

You feel Finn chuckle next to you and you shiver as he whispers in your ear. "She's a sweetheart," he tells you. He doesn't understand, _of course_ he doesn't understand that your daughter is asking for her _mother_ \- she's asking for _Quinn._

Your heart clenches at the look on your daughter's face as she asks for Quinn again. You take her into your arms, whispering apologies and asking for forgiveness, words you want to but cannot say to Quinn. 

It takes you hours to get Samantha to go to sleep and even then it's simply because she's exhausted herself from crying.

Finn tells you you're beautiful, that you're brave and wonderful and perfect. And just like that it all clicks into place. A dam bursts from inside of you and you struggle not to drown in the emotions you've denied and suppressed for years. The freedom you felt the night before is threatening to stifle you. You can't breathe and you gasp as you push Finn away from you. You tell him to leave. He is confused but you don't care. You tell him to never come back, to never call, to never think about you again. He tries to speak but you don't let him. You push him out the door and cry harder than your daughter has in the short four years of her life as you sit slumped against the closed door.

Quinn doesn't come home that night. Nor the next night, nor the next. By the fourth day, Samantha has made herself sick from crying and at your wit's end, you call Kurt. You've been calling Santana and Quinn for days, but neither of them have picked up. You were halfway down the building just the day before when you realized you didn't know where her apartment is as you've always met outside for dinner, never at your apartment and never at hers.

You beg Kurt to tell you where Santana lives, but he doesn't know either. You beg him to call Quinn, but she doesn't pick up. You beg him again, this time to call Santana, and mercifully, Santana answers. You ask him to tell her that Samantha needs Quinn, you bite your tongue to keep from adding that you do too, and please, just for the child's sake will she please give Quinn the message—to tell Quinn that her daughter needs her.

In the minutes Kurt is silent as he listens to whatever Santana is saying on the other side of the line, you don't breathe. You watch him flinch, you watch him start to open his mouth to interrupt her over and over as he ends up shutting it closed again, merely nodding. You can't hear what she's saying to him, you're afraid that whatever it is, Kurt's nods seem to indicate his agreement. You stay silent and you pray. If she'd just tell Quinn… Quinn would do anything for your daughter. Anything. Everything. Even see you again. _Please,_ You think. _let her tell Quinn._

Kurt gives one final nod, says "Thank you, Santana," and sighs as he hangs up. He smiles at you sadly, tiredly, holding his thumbs up in a way that has always reminded you of high school and losers and glee club. It makes your heart clench now, as it often does, and you launch yourself into his arms. "I've messed up, Kurt." You tell him. "I've messed everything up."

You can't bear to tell him everything that's happened, everything you've been feeling, everything you've done. You want to, you want to so badly but you can't. Words fail you as they have since the day you saw those 2 pink lines. 

He steers you towards the couch and rubs your back as you sob. 

"Kurt!" You call out plaintively, clutching him to you, "Kurt!" 

He doesn't say anything, only hugs you tighter.

When finally he speaks, you are reminded that night of what friendships are about. The truth is you've had so few in high school, no one outside of the glee club, and even fewer in college as it's always about classes and rehearsing and competition, and you are focused and afraid of failing, of falling again. And Kurt has been away living his own life, his own dream.

But that night, Kurt reminds you. He gives you hope. He forgives you even when it isn't his place. He absolves you even when he shouldn't. He doesn't tell you anything you do not already know, but no one has ever actually told you and as you listen to him, you soak it all in like the first rain after a drought. And you realize it is. It has been five years. 

_Five years._

Samantha is still asleep when he leaves and the hope he has rekindled in you gives you a sense of strength. The thought of seeing Quinn makes you slightly giddy but you try to calm yourself as your daughter's temperature is steadily rising and you know it is only because of her that Quinn has agreed to come.

You jump when you hear a key go into the lock and you hold your breath as it clicks and the door opens. Her eyes are red, the clothes she has on are rumpled, her hair is in disarray, yet you decide she has never looked more beautiful in all the years you have seen her. You don't see anger in her gaze, just hurt and confusion. You want to prostrate yourself at her feet, ask for forgiveness, anything to fix what you have done; but then your daughter is coming out of her bedroom and she wails when she sees Quinn, and runs to her.

The crying doesn't cease, not for a while, and it's as though Samantha is punishing Quinn for leaving as she had so many times before with you. Quinn is patient, she doesn't get rattled. With softness in her eyes as she looks at your daughter and the gentle ministrations of her hands, it is as though she understands, as though even your daughter's cries are music to her ears.

For the first time in over three years, with the two of you in your own home, you do not sleep together. She stays in Samantha's room, and you stay in yours, fighting to keep the guilt, the longing, and most especially, the tears of relief, at bay.

Samantha is much better in the morning, and for the first time in days, she finally smiles again. You wake up to her laughter; she is in Quinn's arms and Quinn is reading her a story. Your eyes meet briefly and your heart races as she smiles at you. But her smile is quickly gone. It is as though for a moment, she has forgotten what you had done only to have it all crash down on her as she remembers it all.

She doesn't look at you for the rest of the day.  
\---

It is exactly two months before Quinn says anything at all to you. You know because you've been counting. You haven't had a full night's sleep since before that night with Finn, and every morning, your first thought is a wish, a prayer that it was all just a dream. For a full five minutes when your eyes open, you will Quinn to walk in, to kiss you and tell you breakfast is ready as she's done for the past 3 years. But she doesn't.

She tells you she wants to take Samantha out for a movie that night. She doesn't ask you for permission, she's merely telling you. And she doesn't ask you to come.

The next time she speaks to you is two weeks later. This time, she does ask you for permission. She's seeing someone, she tells you, and she would like to introduce her to Samantha. There's a pounding in your chest and you let out a strangled breath. You realize you can't breathe, you've forgotten how to. You double over, gasping, and in the next instant Quinn is next to you her hands framing your face. She's talking to you, but you can't hear a word she's saying. Her touch is all you can focus on, and you start to cry. You don't want to be crying. You deserve all the pain you're feeling. You've hurt Quinn and destroyed your family. You don't get to be the one that needs to be taken care of. You try to stop, but you can't.

And then Quinn starts singing to you. She touches your forehead with hers, and she's singing like she did that night over four years ago before Samantha was born; and you can hear. You can feel her and you can see her and you can touch her. And she's crying just as you are. And you pray. You aren't sure what you're praying for, perhaps it's for Quinn not to leave you, or maybe it's simply for that moment when she's finally holding you again to never end. Everything ends, you know that, but you pray anyway.

Slowly, you get a hold of yourself. Her voice calms you, the feel of her against you gives you hope. "Please," you tell her. And when she starts to shake her head, you don't let her. You hold her head in place and for a second you consider kissing her. You want to remind her of everything you two had, everything you can still have. But you don't. You won't make her do what you've done. You won't turn her into you. So instead you whisper to her. "I'll fix us." You promise. "Just give me a chance and I'll fix everything."  
\---

It's the first time you really try to do anything in the kitchen outside of making coffee, pouring your daughter a bowl of cereal and slicing fruit. You don't even really make your salads because Quinn always seems to have something ready for you to eat. The past few months since the incident, she's still continued to make sure there's always something for you. So the first time you try to make pancakes, it all goes quite horribly wrong.

You burn yourself on the range twice, flour ends up all over the floor, there are eggshells everywhere on the counter and to top it all off, you burn the pancakes. 

Your _'I'm sorry'_ cookies were never this difficult to make. You swear the kitchen is cursed. Or it's angry at you because you've hurt Quinn. You decide you'll have a talk with it later when there's no chance your daughter will hear.

There's genuine fear in Quinn's eyes before it is replaced by amusement when she catches sight of you in the kitchen. She reaches for the half burnt pancake in Samantha's hand. "Rach?" She squeaks out.

You blush. "It's just a bit burnt." You tell her. She looks doubtful and lifts the pancake to her nose before sighing and giving it back to Samantha who, you note, quite happily starts munching on it again.

She turns back to you, fully amused now, biting her lip. You know she's trying to hold back a smile. And just because she's Quinn and she makes everything better, you show her your hand, twice burnt. 

She pulls you to her, sighing into your hair. She holds you as nearby your daughter babbles on about mermaids and fairies as she stuffs her stomach full with your half burnt pancakes. Quinn whispers something to you, but you don't quite catch it. You're afraid to ask her, afraid she'll let you go so you tell yourself to be satisfied with her holding you. 

You decide then that you'll do _anything_ to keep her.


	3. Confessions

The first time you meet Carly, you wish the ground would swallow you whole. You run into her and Quinn at the bookstore Samantha has asked you to bring her to so she can have the newest installment in her favorite adventure series. It turns out it's exactly why they are there as well, so Quinn can get the book for Samantha.

Carly is nice, friendly, and most certainly gorgeous. She's tall, her muscles are well-toned, her skin beautifully tanned. Her hair shines when it catches the sun's rays, her eyes sparkle as she talks about a book you've never even heard of before, and her laugh in itself sounds like music. You decide she's just about perfect and your heart drops when you realize she's better than you and that Quinn deserves the best.

You are quiet that night and so is Quinn. She keeps looking at you like she wants to say something, explain maybe, even when she doesn't have to. And you're seriously considering whether you're capable of just letting her go because she deserves someone much better than you. You try to imagine life without her and you just about have another panic attack because no, it really just isn't something you want. It isn't something you think you can handle.

Quinn comes into your room in the middle of the night. She hesitates at the door for a minute before she gathers enough resolve to enter. She sits at the foot of your bed, the bed you'd shared for years, the bed she's left at upon your betrayal, as her eyes rake over you. You feel naked under her gaze and you shiver in apprehension. You know she sees what you're thinking, how you're feeling and it terrifies you. You don't want her to see through you, you don't want her to see your insecurities and your fears.

"Why did you do it, Rach?" she asks you, her voice breaking at your name. "Why couldn't I make you happy?"

You don't know how to respond, because really, no one's ever made you as happy as Quinn has, and because you haven't really thought about Finn either since the day you pushed him out the door. You sit up, take her hand and place it above your heart willing her to feel how it races at her touch. You tell her the one thing you've never told her in the four years that she has loved you.

You tell her that you love her too.

You tell her about your shame. You tell her about the anger that's been coursing through your veins. It had become a part of you for far too long and the moment you had a chance to prove you weren't nobody, that you couldn't be forgotten, you did. You tell her you are stupid. You tell her it's the biggest mistake you've ever made. You tell her how her eyes dazzle you, how her smiles warm you, how her touch ignites your very soul. Most importantly, you tell her that you love her and that if she'd let you, you'd spend your whole life showing her exactly that.

She cries but doesn't respond, and as you take her into your arms, your heart breaks at what you know you have done to you both.  
\---

Santana comes to your apartment for the first time three days later. She stares at you, eyebrow raised as you gape at the sight of her in the doorway. Samantha and Quinn are out and you send up a prayer that if Santana is there to kill you, it isn't your daughter that walks in to find your body first. When Santana has had enough of your gaping, she pushes past you and invites herself into your apartment. She looks around, humming in approvable. You hold your tongue to keep yourself from admitting that the apartment is all Quinn's doing. You guess that she probably already knows that anyway. She sits on the couch, waiting for you to follow her before she starts talking. You don't know what possesses you to do just that, but you do. Perhaps the guilt's finally clawed its way out of your chest and the day of your reckoning has come.

Santana snaps you out of your melodramatic musings with a tap of her foot on your wood floors. You notice the discoloration on the wood, probably due to your daughter's constant spilling of her juice on the floor and make a note to buy varnish. You'll leave Samantha with Kurt that weekend and maybe you and Quinn can make a party off of re-varnishing the floor. High on varnish, you two just might forget the mess you're in.

Santana clears her throat loudly to get your attention. She's getting quite impatient. You give her a pointed look and she smiles, pleased. "What are your intentions towards Quinn?"

You choke on the air that you've just sucked in and tell her the first thing that pops into your mind when you manage to stop coughing. "We've been having sex for _years,_ Santana."

She gives you a look that tells you exactly how stupid she thinks you are. She repeats her question. You look at her, aghast. Only when she realizes you really don't understand what it is she wants from you does she soften and smile. She rolls her eyes at you and your heart starts to pound as you start to understand what it is she's asking from you.

So you tell her.

You tell her you want to spend the rest of your life with Quinn. You tell her you want to marry her.

Santana merely rolls her eyes at you again, but this time she's smiling. "You two do everything backwards," she tells you. "Can't you two like, start with a date?"

You shake your head, you just can't help it. You do want to marry her. You can spend the rest of your lives going on dates, but you can't wait to finally have her be yours.

"She's always been yours, you know?" Santana tells you, like she's just read your mind. "Yours and your little munchkin's."

"Ours." You tell her. Samantha has always been Quinn's daughter too.  
\---

When you ask Quinn to marry you, you don't have a ring. It's late into the night and your daughter has asked for ice cream after a mini-Disney marathon and because neither of you had the resolve to say no, there you three were on a park bench, three spoons and an empty carton of ice cream between you. Samantha is slumped against Quinn, half asleep from an ice cream induced stupor.

Your hands shake and you can barely meet her eyes, but you ask her anyway. She looks incredulously at you and you feel you're about to have a heart attack. You repeat yourself, barely able to breathe and force yourself to whisper that you love her. It's really all you can manage, you feel like you're about to die. You know she's going to say no, and really, she's got no reason to say yes, but god, you can't live without her and asking her is all you've been able to think about for the past month.

She doesn't respond. You don't know how long she just looks at you and you can't tell what she's thinking because you still can't breathe and you're focusing on trying to remember how to. When finally she's speaks, she says your name, and it makes you want to cry. Her voice is raspy in the cold night air and all you can think about is how her voice is the one thing you want to hear over and over for the rest of your life. She's who you want to see day in and day out, who you want to hold as you sleep each night. She's all you want and you've lost her because of some misguided twisted need for retribution.

"We should go. She'll catch a cold if we stay out much longer." Quinn lifts Samantha into her arms, careful not to wake her. She gets as far as a nearby streetlamp before she notices you aren't behind her and stops to wait for you. You're still sitting on the bench, looking at her, dumbfounded. You want to rage, demand that she reply, make her break your heart as you had hers, make her say _Yes_. You remain where you are, silently, willing her to respond. She shifts your sleeping daughter, you know she's almost too old to be carried, you know how heavy she has gotten. She finally meets your eyes and you can't read them. You watch as your daughter burrows into her further, Quinn's arms tightening securely around her.

This time, you stand. You make your way towards them. You hold your hand against Samantha's cheek and you lean over to whisper in her ear. She shifts, her body angling towards you, her arms wrapping around you. She rubs her chilled nose against your neck and it makes you smile. You turn your gaze towards Quinn, and unguarded, you see how tenderly she looks at you and your daughter. The smile on your face widens and you can't help but laugh a little. "Momma," Samantha whines against you and you kiss her head in apology.

You roll your eyes at Quinn and her expression is once again guarded and indecipherable. But it isn't anymore, not really. So you tell her what you're thinking before you start to walk back to your apartment. "You'll marry me one day, Quinn Fabray." And you know you're right, you know because you won't let yourself be wrong.  
\---

Quinn avoids you for most of the following week. And the week after. And the week after that. You thought it was a bit amusing, at first, but as the weeks wore on, frustration started to set in and the amusement has decreased to nil.

You tell Kurt what's happened and he doesn't understand why you find any of it funny. You honestly don't either, but there's something inside of you that's made you giddy, dizzy, floaty, high. "Quinn's going to marry me." You tell him. "She will."

He reminds you she never actually replied, that she has, in fact, avoided you for most of the weeks after you'd proposed, but he shuts up when you ask him if he really thinks you and Quinn don't belong together. His lack of an answer and the way his eyes soften tell you enough.


	4. Buried under

"Rachel asked me to marry her."

It's the first thing you've said in the 2 hours you've been there. You don't quite remember how you got there or how long you've been sitting in the dining room. but the tea Carly's prepared has long since gone cold, cupped between the palms of your hands. Carly is quiet. She doesn't speak. She doesn't pry. She doesn't react. It's what you've always loved about Carly. The quiet. The calm. It's also what you don't.

Carly doesn't make your heart race, she never has. One look from her doesn't make your insides twist in knots. One small smile from her doesn't make the room brighter.

"I didn't say _'yes.'_ " You add quietly.

"You didn't say _'no.'_ " She responds evenly.

You raise your eyes to meet hers and her eyes are soft and full of understanding. You shake your head. She takes your hand.

"We can stop this."

And you should, but you can't, you really can't. Carly helps keep you together, keeps you from breaking into the many pieces Rachel's actions have left you in. She keeps you grounded, shrouded, hidden. Carly keeps you from drowning.

"I love you." You tell her. And she laughs.

She pats your hand, smiling beautifully at you. She kisses your cheek as she whispers in your ear. "Of course you do, sweetie."

She makes a fresh batch of tea and only after the kettle's done whistling and a new cup is poured do you speak again. "If… If he came back… Would you? Would you let him? Would you take him back?" You are afraid to look at her, afraid to confirm how you've hurt her, but you do anyway. You can't do this to her and not be brave enough to catch her.

She tries to smile at you again, she's so good to you, always so good, but tears are forming in her eyes and she makes to turn away. You grab her by the arm, pulling her to you as you wrap your arms around her middle. She hugs you back tightly, drawing in the comfort of your unspoken apology.

It's minutes later when she's sitting across from you, knuckles white from her vise-like grip on her cup that she answers. "I can't not, Quinnie."

\---

You met Carly in a coffee shop the year you first land a role that pays well enough for you to be able to afford a good preschool for your daughter and a regular sitter that doubles as a piano teacher. You're taking the minimum number of units that allows you stay enrolled and despite that being only 3 subjects, you're struggling to meet your deadlines on top of caring for your daughter and Rachel and shooting for the series. Despite how much you love them both, you revel in your weekly immersion into the aroma of coffee and baked goods as you sit, trying to get through the mountain of schoolwork you always seem to have to get caught up on.

The day you meet her, she plants herself in the chair in front of you, and startled, you simply stare at her, slack-jawed. She talks to you about War and Peace, picking it up from the pile of readings you have in front of you. She talks for a whole half hour before she finally tells you her name, and rather bashfully, admits that she is a bit socially awkward. She reminds you of Rachel, and because even the remotest thought of Rachel puts you in a good mood, you make a friend that day.

Seven weeks later she tells you she's having an affair with a married man.  
\---

The reason you and Carly work is that despite the fact that you're not actually in love with each other, you do love each other. Aidan is married and unable to leave his wife for her, and Rachel… well, Rachel had done what she had.

What you two have… it keeps both of you afloat. It keeps you both from drowning in misery.

It really is quite like a real relationship for the most part. There's concern, respect, friendship, most certainly love. You had picked up the pieces many a time after the more turbulent periods of her relationship with Aidan and she has loved and cared for you before Rachel was even able to admit to herself her own feelings for you. It is ridiculous how your faith in Rachel had never wavered those past four years despite what those closest and dearest to you have said. And the truth is, despite what she had done, you still hold that belief close to your heart.

And that is what kills you and Carly both. However many times Aidan breaks his promises to her, he'll always have her heart. And so even when it seems like you're in a relationship with her, and she's in a relationship with you, when you hold her in the night, it isn't her you see, it isn't her you really feel, just as you're not it for her. In those desperate months your world had been so shattered you could barely feel, it still wasn't Carly's whose name you called, just as yours never escaped her lips.

When you'd hinted to Rachel about her, it had mostly been a lie. You hadn't known what to say to her, but there was such a great need to do so, to elicit anything at all from her so you'd taken a shot in the dark. A dagger to a heart you weren't sure existed. Her reaction thrilled you and sent your world spinning further. You know you should know better than to trust Rachel again, know better than to give her the remains of your shattered heart, but you can't not. It doesn't belong anywhere but with her.

And so you both only really pretend. Carly holds you up. You hold her down. You keep her tethered to this world when she is in the throes of despair, and she keeps you buoyed when Rachel's sins have you so buried under that you can't breathe and see even with the glimmering brightness of your daughter's being.  
\---

Cheating isn't something new to you. You'd done it so often in the past you can barely keep track of who you were actually with at any given time. High school was a crazy period in your life. High school was when you lost your daughter because you weren't and couldn't be _good enough._ Hell, you simply couldn't _be enough._ But things had changed. And god, Rachel doesn't know it, you've never really told her, but she had played such an important role in all that. You think it's part of the reason you fell in love with her even before you could properly admit to yourself that you actually liked her. But all that, all the cheating, all the craziness, it was all over. You were done with all that.

You'd tried early on to get Carly to see that cheating, an affair, couldn't possibly end well. Especially one wherein she'd been on the receiving end of disappointment and pain for years. But Carly wasn't capable of listening, just as you'd never been able to listen to Santana's warnings and criticism about Rachel's behavior the past few years. You think it's because better sense plays no real part in it. That in the night, when she holds you and you hold her, when you kiss her and you see her smile, hear her moan, feel her arms tighten around you pulling you impossibly close to her as though she can't get you close enough, you feel with every fiber of your being all the things left unsaid, the things not done. When you think of those nights, when you remember the particular way her eyes shone just for you, how she kissed you in places no one has ever cared to kiss, how she would sigh your name as she snuggled into your neck and wrapped her arms around you every single night without fail. These are the things Santana has never seen and doesn't know, things you have never bothered to tell her because they were private Rachel-moments that you treasured, actions just for you, yours and not public consumption. You've never told anyone, not even Carly. But Carly's never needed to know. Carly has her own. Carly's keep her from truly ever leaving him, just as you can't ever truly leave Rachel.

Santana, Kurt, your mother, her fathers—they all think this relationship is because of Samantha. Because of your misplaced feelings for a daughter you had given up. They think you are projecting it all onto Rachel's daughter, and that the relationship was merely borne from this yearning to mother, to create a family you had given up when you were far too young to know any better. But you had known better. You had given your daughter the best chance she had at life. And you have been in love with Rachel Berry far longer than anyone can guess. No, this relationship isn't because of the child. The love you feel for her isn't because of anything other than who Rachel Berry is and everything, everything that she is.

What Rachel had done had come as a shock to you. Not because you had thought her better than that, or that she wasn't capable of it—no. No, no, no, you had always known what Rachel Berry was capable of. You've always known that insecurities, her anger, her ambitions, as with all her emotions, ran very deep, and when a deadly mix came into play, hell would most certainly break lose. You'd simply never thought you'd be caught in the crossfire.

Some days you think you've forgiven Rachel for what she'd done. You'd understood, sort of, when the pain of her betrayal had stopped consuming you enough to think about why she'd done what she had. You'd understood that is was as much a betrayal of herself as it was a betrayal of you. A betrayal of all you two had, of all you two had built. But it hadn't really been the both of you. You had built for the two of you and she had built for herself. Her fall, her failing, her fear and anger had consumed her. The closer she got to the top, the further she spiraled into herself. You saw it in the frequent late nights, the dimming of her eyes, how some days she merely sighed into you as she pulled you close. Some days you wanted to shake her, ask her if she realized she was slowly killing herself with trying to get further up top, but your tongue always froze, heavy and leaden they wouldn't say the words you knew she was incapable of hearing and understanding anyway.

Some days you think maybe you could forgive Finn. Some days you think of sending him a six-pack and a gun with 2 bullets in the barrel. You hate him for what he's done. It's impossible for him to not have known about you two. In a town like Lima, Ohio, even Finn fucking Hudson would understand when he got word, though 2 bullets would be smart, as with his IQ, he was guaranteed to misfire into his foot before managing to get it to his head. But at the same time, you're also grateful because only with this have you once again started to see the Rachel you had actually fallen in love with all those years back. Back to before Samantha, back to before what she deems to be her fall, back to before her insecurities ran rampant, back to the pushy fashion-challenged girl who yearned but pretended to not need to be accepted. You can't even really tell when you actually fell in love with her, truth be told, but God, you've loved her for so long, so very very long. And with this, her spark, her spunk, it has all started to come back. Her pain, her fear, it has transformed into determination and hope. And she is more there, more real, so different from the Rachel that had been fading from you in the last few months before the incident. So yes, a gun and a six-pack because you don't know whether you want to thank him or have him disappear off the face of the planet. Mostly, it's the latter.

Mostly, you forgive Rachel. You really mostly do. But this time, you're the one who is afraid. You're so fucking afraid of hurting like that again, that you're unable to let go of both her and Carly. You know you should. You know Carly is mostly staying on for you. But you don't know how to end it. You don't know if you're brave enough to.


	5. Back to you

It is three months after Rachel's proposal that you snap at both her and your daughter on the same day. It is the first time you snap at Samantha, and truthfully, the first time you have snapped at Rachel since her pregnancy and the beginning of your relationship. You don't know what is wrong with you that day-only that Samantha has been refusing to eat anything but cereal all week, has had Disney's _Frozen_ on a loop all hours of her waking day and that the child had thrown a tantrum at the grocery when they didn't have the particular cereal she seemed to be fixating on; and Rachel—Rachel had been distant all that week, quiet, barely capable of half smiles, mostly staring off into space when she didn't think anybody was looking. If you're honest, it was really mostly Rachel that set you off. Her quiet had sent you in a whirlwind of fear, especially after that voicemail regarding her foregoing the lead role in that year's biggest school production. That had set you on edge. The grocery run was supposed to settle your nerves, calm you before Rachel arrived home from what was supposed to be rehearsals, but Samantha, your always well-behaved little angel had decided on that day to show you exactly how she is her mothers' daughter. You yourself had almost been in tears after with the worry and fear you were feeling and with how your daughter's eyes had widened in incredulity when you had yelled.

Rachel had been home when you and your tear-strained daughter walked into the apartment, both sniffling, her hugging an extra-large box of cereal that you had looked in three grocery stores just to find. Rachel had gaped at you both as you walked through the threshold, unable to form a word. Samantha had walked towards Rachel, nuzzled her face into her chest for a few moments, box of cereal still tightly in her own arms. She sniffled a few times before lifting her head to look at you and saying, "Bed, please?" asking for permission.

You're barely able to stop yourself from crying in your own incredulity at having yelled at your daughter just an hour ago, and all you can really do to keep yourself together is nod in response. Rachel merely sits calmly, seemingly more concerned about you than your daughter. This makes you angry and the moment the door closes behind Samantha you rip into her. Her eyes widen much as Samantha's had done, and then she frowns and then she looks guilty and then she sighs and continues to calmly sit. Her silence infuriates you, but her eyes—her eyes, they reassure you. You see her there. She is all there. She didn't fade away like you were afraid was going to happen again. She is sitting there, calm and complete. And you stop only when you start crying again. You feel her arms around you as she leads you to the couch. Her fingers rub at your ears before wiping the tears off your cheeks. She places a kiss on your forehead and explains to you that she has taken on a job at a nearby hotel, that with the hours she works, she simply can't take on the lead role. You remind her it is her dream. Her dream. There will be other roles, she tells you. You tell her she could be jeopardizing her future, that you've been doing more than make ends meet for the past year and that it isn't necessary. Only her thumb to your lips silences you. She caresses it gently and you will her to kiss you. She doesn't. She pulls you to her, buries her face into your neck. You feel your name on her lips as it brushes along your neck.

"It's my turn, Quinn." She tells you moments later. "It's my responsibility too to take care of our family."  
\---

You wake up early the next morning to find the door to Rachel's room open. You're worried that she has already left, not having yet had a chance to discuss her schedule with her new job and school, and you peek in. You find her on her side, humming a song you don't recognize, as she runs her fingers through your daughter's hair. In your worry you walk in without asking for permission and without being given one, you walk in without thinking about the last time you were in there and the admissions of years of insecurity and anger and fear and the need for revenge and retribution, all remain in the whispery cobwebs of memory. Samantha has never before sought Rachel, or you, in the middle of the night. She is a heavy sleeper, a child fortunately quite free of nightmares and fears of the dark and monsters under beds and inside closets, and so finding her in a bed that was not her own was a cause for worry.

"Is she sick?" You ask, hand reaching for her forehead as you sit on the edge of the bed.

Rachel shakes her head, smiling softly at you. She takes your hand, threading her fingers with yours as she pulls you down into the bed. You acquiesce and try not to sink into the soft mattress that feels much better than one you've been sleeping on the past few months. This bed is the one you have shared for years. It is one that smells of Rachel. It's the one that feels like you've come home. You allow your eyes to close only briefly, refusing to let the familiarity and comfort overtake you. But when your eyes open, Rachel's are on you and you feel such maturity in her gaze that you have never before felt from her that your heart skips a beat.

"Rachel?" It's tentative, barely above a whisper. You're not sure what you feel. You're not sure you know what's going on.

She smiles at you, her eyes, it so soft. So so soft. Too soft. "Rachel." You say again, louder this time, insistent.

"I love you, Quinn." She tells you, and you swear your heart stops beating when she removes the hand threaded with yours. "You were everything I wanted to be… You were beautiful, popular, smart—I tried… I wanted so badly to be close to you, to have you just smile at me." Her eyes look lost and only your daughter between you keeps you from taking her into your arms and shaking her.

You don't want to see her lost. You want her there, with you, with Samantha. You reach for her, your hand gripping hers once again. You know it's a bit painful, but you're afraid and you want her to feel, to come back, to stay. "Rachel." You say again. And this time, when she looks at you, her eyes are brighter.

"Your daughter is of the opinion that I did it wrong." She's smiling at you wryly. You don't know what she's talking about, but the way her eyes sparkle, the way her smile has that hint of a smirk shows you she's there. She's staying. She brings out a plastic ring—a red plastic band with a large crystal on top, the kind that comes free from snack boxes and cereal, and Rachel takes your hand into hers. She sits up slightly, places a soft kiss on your wrist before turning your hand over and slipping the ring onto your left pinky finger.

"I know you didn't say yes…" she continues wistfully, "I know what I did was unforgivable. That I ruined our family… And that I have no real right to ask you to be mine. I know I don't deserve you. Not you, not our daughter, not this family… But I love you, Quinn. I love you so much. And I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix it. You deserve someone so much better than me, but I love you. I love you and I don't know how, but I'll fix it. Let me fix it. Just give me a chance and I'll figure out how to make everything as it was.  
\---

Things with Carly end that very same day.

You sit waiting for her in the very café you had met in almost 2 years earlier, nursing a steadily growing cold chai tea. What you desperately wanted was the comforting taste of a piping hot Americano, but the pounding in your chest since that morning when Rachel put that plastic ring on your finger, the very ring you still haven't taken off, makes you afraid you're going to have a heart attack if that much caffeine enters your system.

She is 30 minutes late, nothing new as she is almost always at least 30 minutes late to everything you two have ever set or gone to, and you try to steady the heavy beating of your heart with every second you sit there and wait. She arrives with a heavy gust of wind and it knocks down a potted plant near the doorway. A storm is coming, you can't help but think, and in that second you pray that it does not leave destruction in its wake as it so often does.

She plops herself in front of you and the goofy smile on her face makes you laugh and your heart feels freer than it has since that morning at the apartment. She laughs with you and the way her eyes simultaneously sparkle as they roll at you tells you neither of you have an actual reason for the sudden attack of levity. When you both calm, her smile is soft and your heart begins to pound again. You don't know what to say so you stay silent, playing with the ring on your finger as you think of how to begin.

She places a small box on the table, a box your mother had sent you just a few weeks before your whole life had been turned upside down. You'd brought it over to Carly's apartment, afraid Rachel would stumble upon it. It hadn't been the right time and you knew it probably wouldn't be for long while. You were both still in school and though you were no longer struggling to make ends meet and she was very close to graduating, you knew she still had dreams to live out. It wasn't the right time then but every time you'd go into your room, or Rachel would take something from the drawer, your heart would beat fast and your head would play out a scenario of you just proposing to her right then. So to Carly's it went—out of sight, out of mind.

"It's okay, you know." She tells you gently as both her hands takes yours in them. "I think she's worth it."

"I'm so scared." Your whisper is barely audible and you're grateful when she seems to have heard it as she squeezes your hands in hers.

"They're worth it." She assures you. "Your future is worth it."

You tell her you're sorry, but you can't say much more than that.

She tells you she's leaving for Oregon to stay with her sister for a while. "Husband was cheating on her." She tells you quietly, her eyes not meeting yours. "Their youngest isn't even a year old."

You flick her left ear and she pulls back in surprise and annoyance. You roll your eyes at her. "Not every cheating husband is your fault."

She rolls her eyes back at you, but her eyes are lighter and she is smiling again. "Of course not. He's a fat turd with an ass as big as a tractor. I told her not to marry him but she wouldn't listen."

You laugh. Times like these you feel so much older than her. She launches herself at you and for a few seconds her hold is so tight that you can't breathe. When she releases you her eyes are heavy with unshed tears but she's still smiling. "I'm done, Quinn." She tells you.

And because you know how this decision, whether or not it is irrevocable and permanent, is tearing her up inside, you hold her and remain silent. It's a long while later when you promise her the only thing that you can, that you will always, always be there for her when she needs you, that she will never have to be alone.

That night you come home to laughter and warmth and singing and dancing. Samantha is jumping on the couch, arms swinging above her head as Rachel belts out _The Little Mermaid's Under the Sea_ along with Sebastian. Samantha launches herself into your arms as you walk through the door, singing so loudly in your ear that it rings. Rachel's beaming smile turns into a look of horror as she turns to look at the kitchen. You place Samantha on the floor who insists on coming with you before you follow Rachel into it. There's a crestfallen look on her face as she takes out the baking dish from the oven. You don't see and smell smoke so you don't quite know what's wrong at first, and when you realize that of course nothing burned—Rachel had forgotten to light the oven—you laugh.

Rachel pouts at you but as you smile warmly at her, her mouth curves, smiling back at you, mollified. "We wanted to make dinner for you." She explained needlessly. You bend down to whisper to your daughter to put her shoes on and get her coat, and as she scampers to do as you've asked, you take Rachel's hand in yours, lifting it to your lips. You see her eyes widen, you feel her pulse quicken. The sudden flicker of desire in her eyes is undeniable and so is the worry that replaces it. "Quinn…" She whispers.

You place a finger to her lips to keep her from talking and simply hold her in your arms. You let her go only when your daughter impatiently announces that she is ready to leave. Rachel remains quiet, but her eyes hold questions you cannot yet give answers to. So taking her hand, you lead her to the door, putting her coat on her shoulders and placing one of Samantha's hands in hers as you hold tightly on to her other one. As your daughter pulls you both out the door, you hope your message is clear. You're not leaving, you're not pulling away, and you're most certainly not letting her go.


	6. Lost

As spectacularly well as that night goes, the next two, almost three weeks, are spectacularly horrible. You don't know why Rachel fights you with you over every little thing and you are nearing the end of your rope. You watch her not taking care of herself, worse than before everything that's happened. You catch her half asleep on the couch- homework, research, readings, sheets and pieces all over the living room at all hours before dawn and at exactly seven every morning she starts breakfast and has Samantha fed and bathed before eight and she's running out half an hour later, barely remembering to grab anything for herself. It's like it was before but also not. She's a lot more attentive towards you and towards Samantha, and she's taking care of herself even less than before, not that it was ever very much to begin with. But there she is, letting go of even more and taking more of things you just simply don't know.

You've tried to broach the subject of the production again but she fights with you about it. You don't understand why you can't convince her to change her mind, why she insists on the job at the hotel when it is clearly taking its toll on her. 

Her hours aren't much better than before the fiasco with Hudson but this time it gets to you. Then, the days you had to pick up the expected slack was because she was doing something she loved, working towards her dream, and that was alright with you. You missed her but it was a decision you encouraged. It was a decision for her future and it's why you've been so willing to give up so much. Because even when she's decidedly the brightest star in your universe, the rest of the world still needs to know her to see how brightly and brilliantly she sparkles.

So when she gets home that night, you're angry. You're positively livid because… because well _fuck,_ you _miss_ her. You miss her and you're worried about her. She walks through the front door at 11:30, a hour and a half later than you were expecting her and even out of breath and partially disheveled you heart does a familiar pitter-patter exclusively reserved for _Rachel._ She has a small bouquet of orange and yellow tulips in her arms and as she approaches you slowly, a slight blush coloring her cheeks, her eyes bashful, she holds it up to you with a whispered "Sorry, I'm late."

But you're angry. You're very very _very_ angry. You have to remind yourself because now that she's home, now that you're looking at her, you don't feel much more than relief that you know for certain she's fine and safe.

"That's the third night this week, Rachel." Your tone is harsher than you mean for it to be and you're glad that you've turned away from her to put the flowers in a vase. Her sigh is soft but you hear it and your heart beats heavy with guilt.

There are many different ways to react to these circumstances— you have seven of them just off the top of your head, but angry and unforgiving seems to be the route your body and tongue are taking and you feel a little powerless to stop it.

Rachel doesn't respond, and when you're done taking care of the flowers, you finally face her. The expression on her face is indecipherable, but you see shake her head and force a small smile. She tries, you can see she tries but it doesn't reach her eyes and when she speaks, her voice is raspy and the undeniable exhaustion that she must feel filters through. It's precisely that that makes you angry.

"I'm sorry. There was a twelve-top and I couldn't get away."

_Why? Why is she putting herself through this?_

"Why don't you quit?" You don't mean to say it out loud but it's out and you can't take it back so you soldier on. "We don't need the money. Not like before. I don't understand why you're insisting on this."

She's quiet and she still won't respond and your frustration just mounts. But for once she doesn't rise to it. You hate it when she doesn't.

Before you know what's going on, she's on her feet beside you and she's pulling you towards her. She hugs you tightly and as she sighs into your neck, you wrap your arms around her, holding on just as tightly. You don't know what's going on and she won't tell you, but in this moment when she's holding you close and you've got your arms around her, there is nothing that can touch you. And you won't let anything touch her.  
\---

"I hate her, Kurt. I do." You're bordering on whining and you hazard a quick look at your daughter playing not even ten feet away, making sure she is out of ear shot.

"Of course you do, sweetie." He pats your cheek patronizingly and it makes you want to whine even more and you can't help but hold your face in your hands are you stifle a scream.

"Have you ever known Rachel Berry to turn down a leading role?" You're beyond frustrated and worried as you watch each exhausting day take its toll on Rachel. "It's the last production, Kurt. The last she's going to be a part of before she graduates."

Kurt's reply is cut short as you both turn when you hear a "Hey bitches" behind you.

Kurt huffs as he often does and looks Santana from head to foot with a mild glare before retorting, "Mind your age, Santana."

Santana is unable to respond as your daughter suddenly launches herself into her arms as she chants enthusiastically "Tana, Tana, Tana" as loudly as her little body can muster.

"You're growing, munchkin." Santana chuckles as Samantha continues to chant her name.

"Bigger than Momma soon," Samantha smiles cheekily, her eyes mischievous. And that's the reason you go through your list of sitters and offer double the usual rate before even considering calling Santana to babysit.

"Definitely bigger than your momma," Santana is quick to confirm, hooting with laughter. And though she probably doesn't understand why Santana finds it so funny, she joins in.

And because the thought of your daughter turning into a little hellion like Santana is equal parts adorable and just plain horrifying, "We're heading home soon, sweetie," you remind Samantha, "why don't you go and play a bit longer before we have to go?"

"Tana, swing please?" She asks holding Santana's face between her little hands, smushing it a little and you marvel at the faint look of utter adoration on your friend's face as rains kisses on your daughter's face.

"Later, bitches." She throws to you and Kurt as they walk away heading to the swings. And you laugh as you hear Samantha tell her Tana why she shouldn't say that word and how they can't play if Santana is in time-out for saying naughty things.

"Child has more sense that overgrown—" Kurt falters and you laugh.

"What? Are you gonna say the B word?"

Kurt looks immediately chagrined and it makes you laugh harder. He rolls his eyes at you and he puts his arm around your shoulders as he pulls you to him. You watch Santana push your daughter on the swing and you lay your head on Kurt's shoulder.

"She's not here" Kurt begins softly, and your heart clenches, "And she's not there. I know it's hard, but I think she's trying to figure out where she belongs."

"That's simple. She belongs with us." It's matter of fact really. And really, really you don't understand, because Rachel with you and your daughter in New York and making all her dreams come true is where she belongs.

"Yes, with you." Kurt is also matter of fact, you note, satisfied. "But not so simple." Now you're less satisfied. "Before you," he continues, "Before you even knew how you felt… Before she even understood how she felt, she was always there."

"I know, Kurt," You do.

"You don't." His tone is serious and he sighs heavily. "You don't know." He removes his arms from around you and turns slightly to face you. "High school was… messy. There were too many emotions, too many things that were said and not meant, too many fears and too many walls." His eyes are on you but he doesn't seem to really see you. "I know how much you love, Rachel now, I know you do, but Rachel…" he's biting his lip and his eyes are wistful. "It was a series of moments. Just a series wherein there was so much love that even those fears and those walls couldn't hide it. I was allowed to look, I was allowed to see, but not welcome to speak." His laugh is without mirth and you know he's right, you don't know what this is. His eyes are misty and he evades your gaze as he continues "She was sixteen. You were sixteen. You in your tight red uniforms with those perfect ponytails and high-heaven splits and her and her horrific argyle and too short skirts and bigger than this voice world. There was not a single thing Rachel Barbara Berry couldn't and wouldn't handle. I learned that pretty quick. Not a damn thing unless it was you. She gave up seats on the bus and in class. She gave up fruit cups and yogurt bowls. She gave up morning practices and study nights. She gave up prom and homecoming and boys and numbers and songs. Year after year, Rachel gave and gave. And I don't think anyone's ever told you exactly how much. The biggest she gave up was you. Rachel knew she had to give you up. She had to for you. So she did."

Your heart is beating so hard it's a struggle to breathe but Kurt doesn't let up.

"When you moved here… I didn't know what to think. Those nights you took care of her, and then with Samantha… I couldn't understand. It was crazy. I knew you felt something for her. Even when you wouldn't let me see, you just couldn't always hide it. Those piercings and that pink hair, and those eyes, those eyes are either stuck to Rachel or everywhere else but her so you could try and get through the day, the week, the month, the freaking year, without baring your soul for the whole school to see."

He's holding a hand to your cheek now and there's a tinge of desperation in his voice, "I was so worried about betraying her and of scaring you away. You were here and you were finally letting yourself see her. I didn't want to step out of line. I didn't want to push you, I didn't want to push her. But now… I think I should've. I should have said something, I should have done more."

His eyes are glistening with unshed tears and you grip his hand tightly calling his name softly as he loses himself to his thoughts. It takes him a few moments before he's able to look at you and continue. "Tell her what you were really thinking all those times in high school. Tell her how you loved her when you were sixteen. Tell her because you're her very first heartbreak and I don't think she's going to be able to heal until you do."


	7. Open doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, readers and shippers! 
> 
> It's a pleasure and an honor to share this world with all of you. I can't express enough how happy it makes me when what I've written makes the readers _feel_ and _fall_ into the emotions teased out in and by the story. 
> 
> So thank you for the sweet and kind comments in previous chapters. It's always a joy to hear what you all think and feel.

It is five weeks later when you come home at half past midnight to find Quinn waiting for you in the living room in the dark. You jump in fright, hand over your heart as Quinn stares back pensively at you gripping a glass of wine tightly between her hands. You sigh in relief and will your heart to calm as you take your coat and bag off, placing them carefully on the rack beside the door. When you're done, you notice that Quinn has moved towards the kitchen and is getting you a glass from one of the cupboards. You move to sit on a stool in the kitchen, hunching forward slightly as you lay your arms flat on the counter. You smile at her fondly as she hands you a glass of wine, holding her hands in yours for a few seconds, simply reveling in the feel of them again. You let out a content hum as you let her hands leave yours and take a sip of the drink she's offered. You sit back against the brick wall behind you and you let your eyes close. Quinn is quiet for a few minutes and you'd almost fallen asleep before her voice brings you back.

"You're working too hard," it's almost a whisper.

You open your eyes and you see the worry in her eyes. You smile softly because you know she loves you. You know even when she no longer says it, even when you aren't sure you're allowed to touch her. You know she does even when what you've done is unforgivable. "Did you know servers can earn six figures a year in this city?"

"I met Carly two years ago." She responds instead. You feel your heart plummet as she sighs, taking a seat on the stool across from you. You don't really want to listen to what Quinn is going to say, most days you pretend Carly doesn't exist at all, and often you forget that she even does because when Quinn and Samantha are with you, you feel so at peace, you feel so strong that it is as if nothing in the world can touch you. So really, you don't want to hear any of this, because you _know_ she loves you and you don't want to find out you're actually _wrong._

You don't realize you've started to cry until Quinn's fingers are brushing tears off your cheeks. "It was right after I got the part on _Strokes._ You were at school, Antha was at day care and I was trying to get caught up on school work and she was just there…" She takes a deep breath as she cups both hands around your face and you're so afraid that it's the end—that it's the night she's going to tell you you're over, that you barely can barely breathe.

"Quinn, please, don't," your words are no more than a whisper and you swear you heart stops when she shakes her head in response.

"I really need you to listen, Rach…" she almost begs you, her eyes glistening in the dim glow of the kitchen pendants twists at your heart.

You remove her hands from your face and brush your own tears away. You won't let her continue to hurt because of you. You know Quinn has always put you first, you and your daughter, and this time, even if she's going to break your heart, you know you deserve it and you'll take it. You have to.

"You've been with her for two years?" You manage to get out when you've taken a few steps away from her.

Quinn frowns as she shakes her head. "No." Her voice is tight but firm. "I met her two years ago. I told you about her, you just weren't listening."

You nod, you note the repressed anger in her tone and you're quick to placate. "I know, Quinn. I _do_ know. Everything you've done… You wouldn't."

"Then why…?"

You shake your head. "It's not like I wouldn't have deserved it," you tell her wryly, "It's not like you don't deserve so much better than me." Quinn opens her mouth to respond but you hold up a hand, "I was the one who got pregnant, had a daughter—I didn't really have a choice." You run a hand through your hair, willing the tears away, "You kept me from drowning and all I did was pull you under."

"Don't." Her tone is angry and your eyes whip towards her. Her eyes are flashing and you realize you haven't seen a hint of this Quinn in years. You swallow audibly, rendered mute by that one word.

"The last time I was back in Lima, my mom asked if I was sure this was the life I wanted. She asked me if I was sure about you, if maybe it was really only Samantha I wanted because of what happened in high school. Did you ever wonder…?" She trails off as she breathes in deeply. It takes her a minute to compose herself before she carries on. "Did you think I was only in it for her?"

You want to tell her you know how much she loves you because you do, you really do, but it isn't as though you'd ever really been _sure_ until the past few months. Quinn _knows_ you. She knows you'd never keep Samantha from her and yet she'd stayed. She sighs again when you don't respond.

"I don't know when it happened," She continues. "I don't even remember a time when I didn't love you. I didn't move here for Antha, Rachel. Everything I did was so you wouldn't have to know what it was like to lose her. I wanted to help you make your dreams come true without having to give her up like I did with Beth." She takes a shuddering breath and her voice cracks at her daughter's name. "I didn't want _you_ to have to go through any of what I did.

You cross the room, taking her into your arms as sobs rack her body. "Do you think I didn't know what you were going through?" She chokes out. "All those nights you wouldn't sleep, the days you'd barely eat just so you'd have more time to run your lines and practice your pieces. Did you think I didn't know why you wouldn't go back to Lima? Why you make up excuses whenever your fathers want to come and visit?"

"Quinn…" You whisper, as she pushes you away and looks into your eyes.

"I've always known, Rachel. Always. _Always._ " Her voice is rough but firm and her eyes flash briefly with anger at what she says next. "I've never been sure I deserved you after all I'd done, but Finn Hudson most certainly does not. He doesn't deserve you and he doesn't deserve our daughter. He has never been good enough for you. Even when he chose to walk away from you, he should have never even had the chance. You're not in high school anymore, Rachel. We're not _teenagers._ " She spits out the word as though it is vile. And after what you had both gone through, it might as well be. "No one gets to make you feel like you don't deserve the world because you do. No one. Not even you."

You nod because you think you understand what she's saying. You think she might have really always known how you've felt.

"You don't have to give up your dream." Quinn ends quietly. "I'm here so you'd never have to give any of it up."

You watch her for a few moments as she wipes her tears away. Then she gets up, gathers your glasses and takes them to the sink. She's washing them when you remind her of what she'd initially wanted to talk about. This time, you think, you're stronger. This time you can handle it.

"And Carly?" You ask softly.

Quinn's eyes bore into you. "There's never been anyone else but you, Rachel."

Your eyes search hers and they tear again at the sheer intensity of the way she's looking back at you. "What does that _mean,_ Quinn?"

Sighing, she wipes her hands on a dishcloth before making her way to you, "It means," she says firmly, "you need to stop living in the past because I need you here with me, Rach. We need you here with us, how else can I ask you to marry me."

For a few seconds the hammering inside your chest is all you are conscious of. "Quinn…" you breathe out a whine, and a smirk is thrown your way. " _I_ already asked _you,_ " you remind her. The loud thumping in your heart makes it difficult to breathe much less think.

"I know. But you deserve to be asked." She says it softly, but firmly and you're both quiet for a beat as she lets that sink in. You feel warm as her words wash over you and your heart beats in hope. It beats with such fiery hope in a way it hasn't in the longest time and you _ache_ in ways you cannot even describe. She moves away from you slightly before speaking again "And I didn't say yes." She's smirking at you now, hands at her waist, and you marvel at how deeply you fall for her with every passing _look_ at every passing _second._

"I know that." You sound like you're whining but you can't help it. You're not sure what Quinn is saying. " _Now_ are you saying you _will?_ "

"Not what I said…" Her smile is coy, her eyes daring.

You've missed this—the way she smiles at you. It is a smile that's never failed to make your heart flutter. "Quinn…" you don't think you've ever felt as vulnerable as you do in this moment, "promise you will?"

The smile she on her face is indeed just that, a promise. Her eyes are earnest, her breath is warm as she whispers in your ear. "I do."  
\---

It takes a few days for you to get over the high you're on because of that encounter with Quinn enough to properly think about what she's told you. But inevitably it does when Carly comes to visit you at the hotel restaurant just as your shift ends. You're pulling your coat on when you see her walk through the doors. You stare dumbly as Blake, the restaurant's new hire, motions towards you, and you clutch your bag tightly in your arms. Carly's lips quirk quickly into a smile and you're not sure why but your heart plummets and you have to remind yourself of Quinn's words. So slowly, you steel yourself, and walk towards her, silently wondering when pretending to be stronger than how you really feel had become so difficult.

"Rachel," she says, softly. "I'm glad I caught you. I'm Quinn's—"

"I know." You fight the nausea bubbling inside you and force yourself to smile. "Carly."

She looks at you curiously, silent for a few seconds before she shakes her head and smiles again. "There's a coffee shop across the street…"

You nod stiffly and follow her in silence as she leads the way. You close your eyes briefly when the cold hits you, and when you open them again, Carly is merely there, her eyes soft and seemingly so full of understanding and she's patiently waiting for you a mere step away.

You don't know how you make it across the street and indoors, you're only really brought back to reality when after a few minutes Carly is wrapping your hands around a steaming mug, and you're confused when she doesn't immediately let go. She says your name thrice but you don't hear her or register much of anything until her hands are on yours. She doesn't let go until your eyes meet hers and you see such kindness in them that your whole being just _throbs._

You take deep calming breaths and her hands wrap around her own drink. She's still silent, simply sitting there waiting for you to get your bearings. You're embarrassed at how you're reacting because you are, you aren't in control at all and it takes _everything_ from you to simply not to fall apart. You think it takes eons, but eventually you do meet her eyes again and when you're able to hold her gaze for a few moments, she smiles at you again before she finally speaks.

"I've wanted to meet you for _forever_ ," she exhales quietly. You feel a steady stream of energy from her and her legs bounce once, twice, thrice, and her painstaking effort at stopping seems to be an indication of how much she probably means what she's saying. The sincerity in her voice, in her eyes and the nervous energy she now exudes after having spoken does more to calm you than her previous silence and though still thoroughly confused, you try to smile. It's takes an enormous effort to do so but you find that her genuine beaming smile back at it makes it worth it. Both her hands grab for yours and you find yourself surprised by how not uncomfortable it makes you. There's something in her eyes, a sort of feverish fire and you find yourself entranced and waiting for what she will say and do next.

"She's always so protective of you." She starts, and it's as if she's surprised those are the words that come out of her mouth and she laughs lightly. "She's always so careful, so so careful. But you're strong. You're so strong and you just have to see it. You just have to believe it."

Her hold on you tightens further and her gaze never once wavers. "Being strong doesn't mean never falling, Rachel. It's _you._ It's _her._ It's getting up even when you've fallen. It's in loving—in forgiving. So forgive, Rachel. Forgive _yourself,_ forgive _her._ "

And the truth is you don't understand all she's saying. Not _all_ , but _enough._ Maybe, you think, you understand enough. And when you nod and squeeze her hands, she beams at you again, but this time her eyes don't quite meet yours. Her legs bounce, once, twice, thrice, and you wait, you give her time. And when eyes meet yours again her smile is bashful but still so genuine, so sincere that it makes your soul ache. And as though she sees it, she's quick to soothe. "This isn't about me. It isn't. It's about you and her… And _God,_ " there's that light laughter from her again, "I've just been waiting _forever_ to meet you."  
\---

It's many hours later when you do get home. You feel simultaneously buzzed and exhausted. Quinn is on the phone when you walk in and she gives you a small distracted smile as she continues her conversation. You stay standing by the door, leaning slightly on it as you watch Quinn. She's tidying up plates and glasses and you note a box of pizza on the coffee table.

You haven't watched her like this in so long, you haven't let yourself see her like this in far far too long and you feel a familiar ache that only Quinn has ever been able to make you feel. It's an all-consuming ache, this thing that Quinn makes you feel. It's always had the power to render you so out of control and powerless, vulnerable to everything around you and you know it's the reason you've made so _many_ mistakes in the past four years.

You _love_ Quinn. You love her with everything you are capable of and even everything you are not and it has always, _always_ terrified you. There are moments when you can't deny the state of utter helplessness you feel when you watch her. It's when you're alone with her like this and you can't not look at her and watch the way her eyes pierce into you that you think she can see into your soul. You see her frown, there's confusion in her gaze and _God,_ you think, there's only _one_ thing in this world you wouldn't give up just to be able to look into her eyes for the rest of your life.

There's a reason for all those years. A reason for all those mistakes. It was disappointment. It was anger. It was fear. It was retribution. It was _love._ God was it love. And when she takes you into to her arms, phone forgotten on the couch, the ache within you grows. It doesn't let up as she tightens her hold on you as she says your name and it's _this_ —it's _this_ that's been at fault for years.

"Quinn," you barely get it out and even then it's soft, too soft and you pray she hears it because you don't know if you can get her name out again. There are days—there are days and nights and minutes and hours and seconds and moments and _heartbeats_ wherein you _know,_ you know without even a hint of a shadow of a doubt that being without her will kill you.

And you've never told her, never ever because it's too much. It's always been too much.

"I'm here." She whispers into your ear and you think for the thousandth time that she's all you'll ever want and need

She places a kiss on your cheek before she steps away from you. You keep your eyes trained on her as she helps you out of your coat and puts it on the rack beside you. She takes your hands as she leads you slowly to your bedroom. She doesn't turn the lights on, as she pulls you inside, and in the dim glow of the lights filtering in from the living room you see her hesitate.

And you won't—You _can't_ let her. So you say her name, and you tell her it's over. You tell her you won't make it if it doesn't stop. So it's going to stop. You need the space and you won't make it without it.

Her eyes are heavy and you note the tinge of fear in them and now _you_ take her into _your_ arms. Because it's true. You are strong. " _I'm here,_ Quinn." You tell her. " _I'm here._ "

There's tears in her eyes but the fear is gone. You see love. You see love and hope and you know she understands. And when you lead her to your bed, she's silent. She acquiesces when you pull her down with you and you hear her sigh as she burrows into you. You feel her with you and it's only now that some of the ache dissipates. In the darkness of your room, the comfort of your bed and the feel of her beside you, only now do you feel the tension leave your body. And with your hands on her face you draw her closer to you until your lips are on hers. It's the hands she weaves into your hair pulling you closer to her, impossibly closer, that keeps you tethered in this world. Because Quinn, everything about Quinn is always so much more than this world and yet she's all that keeps you grounded.

You know it ends tonight. It ends tonight and it starts tomorrow. And you think, you hope, you wish and pray, because you _know_ that when the morning comes, there'll be both heaven and hell knocking down walls you've both built for years.


	8. A glimmer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, readers, for your sweet _sweet_ words.

You wake up to the smell of cooking batter and coffee and for a moment you're brought back to over five years ago with Rachel heavily pregnant convincing you or Kurt or Santana to make her crispy waffles at all hours of the day and night.

You're just about to get up when your daughter walks in with a half filled large mug of coffee and ice sloshing around though carefully clasped between her two tiny hands. She beams at you as you swiftly take it from her and place it on the side table and proceed to pull her in your lap. "Mommy," she starts, in the past few weeks at her new preschool she's started to alternate between calling you and Rachel both _Mommy_ and _Momma_ and you briefly wonder what she'll settle on, "coffee _now_ and waffles and eggs, _then_ bath and park _after._ " She says it slowly and carefully, repeating herself until she's certain she got all of it correctly before beaming once again and adding, "Momma said!"

"Don't you have school today?" You ask, holding her closer as you rub your nose against hers.

"Nope," she pops the P. "Momma said coffee _now_ and waffles and eggs, _then_ bath and park _after._ " You chuckle and she takes your head between her hands and rubs her nose against yours as you had just done to her before she adds, "Momma's the boss."

You get up, swinging her into your arms as you do so, and she squeals in laughter. She squirms in your arms and asks to be let down and you follow her scampering little body into the living-kitchen area as she yells, "Momma, waffles and eggs _now._ "

Rachel smiles at you from the kitchen and you note that despite it she still looks tired. She sighs into you as you pull her into your arms.

"I love you." It's no more than a whisper and you feel a slight tremble go through her body and you hold on to her tighter. "Call in sick today."

She only sighs in response.

You kiss the top of her head before heaving her up and sitting her on the counter. You see her eyes crinkle with laughter and you pull her head towards you to give her a light kiss on her cheek. She places her forehead against yours as she pulls you into her, her heels locking against your back and for a few moments you stay silent, simply reveling in the feel of her, and only your daughter's reminder of the eggs cooking makes you move.

You feel Rachel's eyes on you as you turn the stove off and help your daughter gather the waffles and eggs in plates. Her eyes are soft as you help your daughter up on the high counter chairs.

"Momma," Samantha calls for Rachel, "Got my waffles, got my eggs. Where's my coffee?"

And you can't help it, you laugh. Rachel is chuckling beside you but your daughter's face remains serious and unruffled, she's waiting for a response.

"You're too young for coffee, baby."

Samantha frowns. "You said, coffee, waffles, eggs and bath before we can go to the park."

"For me and mommy, baby" Rachel's hopped down from the counter and is rummaging for something in the fridge. She comes back with a carton of milk and places it in front of Samantha when she's poured a glass. "Babies get milk."

Samantha's frown remains. "I'm _not_ a baby. Mrs. Lee said I'm a big girl. I can tie my shoes and cut my cards and put away my crafts all by myself."

She's too precious for words and you grab the chocolate milk from the fridge and you watch as her eyes widen in excitement.

"You are a big girl," Rachel acquiesces as you hand over the carton. She pours a bit into the glass of milk already on the counter and mixes it with a spoon. "But you forgot to make your bed."

You watch her face scrunch up guiltily as she looks to the bedroom then back up at Rachel. "I fix it now, Momma?"

"After breakfast," You say, ruffling her hair.

"Coffee, choca milk, waffles, eggs, bed, bath before park," Samantha responds as you wrap your arms around Rachel. You tighten your arms around her as you feel her sigh as you both watch your daughter eat.

These are the mornings you never thought you could have. When you were sixteen, everything was too difficult. Too confusing, too overwhelming, too painful, too dangerous, just too damn _hard._ So you never really thought any of this was at all possible until it just happened. The truth is although Yale was good for you, it was being out of Lima that was even better. You learned early on it was never really about the school or the course or the job. Your priorities had been skewed from the get-go. Back in High School, your priority was to get Rachel Berry _out._ Despite the feelings you couldn't face, despite the words you could not say, the one thing you could not deny your heart was getting Rachel to her dream. So when she came to you that night both your worlds changed, it hadn't been a difficult decision.

And as you had woken up each morning since then, there is little you have regretted. And with Rachel in your arms, your daughter in front of you, there's not a single thing you regret if what all that pain has led to is this moment with them. Not even Finn Hudson.  
\---

You've been home from the park for the past half hour, and you're tidying up yours and Samantha's room as she takes a nap when you hear Rachel call you from the living room. She's got her laptop in her lap as she motions for you to join her on the couch.

"I called in sick…" she tells you softly as you sit down next to her. "I also asked for the weekend off."

You remember her promise the night before and you take the laptop from her and place it on the coffee table in front of you before pulling her into your lap. You hear her sigh again as she moves to face you, straddling you. You tamp down the feelings of arousal as there's things you still need to talk about.

You've thought about that day at the park with Kurt, the things he'd said, the dots you've connected, the vastness of what you still can't figure out. You know you're lucky he said anything at all and you wonder if six years out of High School is enough time to be able to revisit old wounds. The truth is, just the thought of Rachel having loved you back then still makes you deathly afraid. Almost five and a half years of living with her, a relationship— _hell,_ a _sexual_ relationship of over four, an almost five-year old daughter and still, still, still, to _think,_ to _consider,_ to _know_ that she'd loved you for almost as long as you've loved her…

You'd tried with Finn, with Puck, with Sam. Sam was the easiest. There were days when you thought you could do it, thought you could survive it. And you tried. God did you try. But it didn't last. None of it lasted. Because most of your nights were filled with dreams of her. You think it's that that's what has simultaneously saved and doomed you.

It's true. At this very moment you cannot with absolute certainty pinpoint the very moment you fell in love with her. You hadn't wanted to. You'd tried over and over with boy after boy to not feel the things you did. You'd gotten as far as sex with Puck to try and deny how you felt about her and everyone knows how that had turned out. It's ironic, you think, how a particularly difficult day of denial of the depths of your attraction for her had had a hand in Beth's being. And now, here you are, mere steps away from another daughter that the world and Rachel Berry have gifted you with. Kurt was right. High school was messy and difficult. And though you undeniably regret many things regarding the conception, the pregnancy, the birth, and the adoption, each night before you close your eyes in slumber, each morning as you open them and take your first breath, you nonetheless thank the heavens for the gift of her life. Because whether or not she's in your life now, just the memory of her eyes, her smile, her smell, the feel of her in your arms that first and last time, all of it you'd do again just to have her grace this world with her being.

"Quinn," Rachel's voice brings you back to her and you place a quick peck on her lips before responding.

"So you paid for my lunch for half a year?"

Her face scrunches adorably in confusion for a few moments before blushing a furious shade of red. Four and a half years and you have never made her blush like this before. You feel a slight pang as you become more aware of how lucky you are to have her despite your own failings. She hides her face in your neck and you laugh lightly, as the pain and guilt ebb away at her mere touch.

"Can we talk about that?"

You hear her muffled groan and feel the shake of her head against you. You consider letting it go, high school is still not something you like to think about after all, but there's so much you don't know. There's so much _she_ doesn't know, and you think, if you've got her in your arms, if she's facing them with you, maybe you can handle it.

"Rachel…"

"You said let go of the past… we're supposed to be discussing how to better mesh our schedules." There's a slight whine to her tone and she still has her face buried in your neck, refusing to look at you. "I have a whole workbook with sheets on our expenses and savings and projected earnings. I started a calendar that we can work on filling in so you can take more units next semester. I've found other classes for Antha while we're not home so she isn't always with a sitter."

And suddenly you're hit with the clearest of memories of a fifteen year old Rachel Berry outlining a production plan to maximize efficiency at the local community theater to a fifty something year-old experienced director who looked at her askance. Your mother was out shopping for new furniture for the house your family had just purchased and you were allowed a reprieve from the insanity of moving, and you'd wandered into the theater where they were holding auditions. And amazing as Rachel had been at her audition, and truly she was, you remember being breathless upon watching her perform, it was when she started her powerpoint presentation, yes she'd had it queued to be presented after singing her audition piece, that you realized that that girl had just changed your life.

"Why weren't you cast in the Sound of Music?" you ask her quickly.

She raises her head at that, her eyes searching yours.

"I watched it. I thought you were going to be in it, but you weren't. Why weren't you in it?" You're pressing her, but it's suddenly very very important for you to know.

"I—They said I'd overstepped. They couldn't let me be in if I was going to insist—How do you even know I auditioned for that?" There's confusion in her gaze, but also, you note, a growing worry. "Quinn… why?"

You take a deep breath and will your heart to calm. You look directly into her eyes, willing her to believe you. "That was the first time I saw you. I think…" And you falter, because it's as though you're there again in that moment. "I think that was the day I fell in love with you."

Rachel sucks in a breath her eyes wide. She's silent and you keep your eyes on her, waiting for her to react. It's a tense next few minutes as what you've said sinks in. And then she's laughing and she's hiding her face again in your neck.

"Oh my God," she manages to get out, "I was insufferable. I was so humiliated when they told me I had no place with them." You feel a sudden bolt of anger course through you and your hold on her tightens. She senses your tension and pulls away from you as she searches your face.

Her voice is soft when she asks you, "That day? Really?"

You nod, silent. You're still trying to fight your way out of the imaginings of ripping these unknown faces to shreds, because really, how _dare_ they.

She places her forehead against yours again as she sighs. This sigh is different, you note. This one is less tired and more… comfortable, satisfied. And as your eyes meet hers, she places a soft kiss on your lips.

"Do you know how hard it is to have feelings for a pregnant woman?"

And you laugh. Because yes you do. You lift an eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes at you in response because of course, you did move to New York for her.

"I couldn't help you. I just wanted to take care of you and… and the baby. And you and the rest of the school were obsessed with those cups, they were all you ever ate and you were always late to lunch. The lunch lady said the only way I could save them for you was if I bought them. So I did. Why in the world were you always late to _lunch_ anyway?"

"Hiding in the library." Your answer is automatic.

Her face breaks into a sad smile and you need to wipe it away. "Rachel Berry, my hero."

"No, Quinn, _you're_ my hero. Every day, you're mine."


	9. Absolution

It's late into the night, you're back in _your_ room, the room you share with _her_ and not your daughter, in your bed, in her arms when you start to tell her. It's the night it begins, you think, because really, you'll be telling her, _showing_ her for the rest of your lives.

"What happened with Finn… It's okay."

You feel her tense next to you and although you move to look into her eyes, the eyes that meet yours are clouded and indecipherable. And because of course your heart still aches and your stomach roils at the thought, you kiss her jaw and whisper her name. Your home, your room, your bed, _your Rachel._ And she is. You know she is. Despite all that has happened, _because_ of all that has happened, you know she is.

And when her hand grips your wrist and her eyes are hazy with tears, you continue to trail soft kisses on her face. "Let it go, Rach. Just let it go." You know it's an absolution that only you can give and through the pain, yours and hers, you tell her over and over. You hold her as silent tears fall down her face and you hold on even tighter when her body shakes. With every minute that passes, with every tear she sheds, with every shake of her body, you feel your residual doubt, the anger, and even most of the pain, dissolve.

"I used to be so scared he'd be enough to keep you in Lima. Keep you from your dreams." You're whispering your confessions, things you should have said years ago but couldn't. You weren't brave enough then, you weren't strong enough. And this is your fault too, you know, the things you didn't say, the things you didn't do. Your biggest regrets in the past are not about the things you said or did to Rachel—not the horrible names you called her, not the slushies you'd had thrown her way, not the bullying, not even the more physical altercations. It's the things you couldn't say to her, the ways you couldn't show her how deeply she made you feel. You thought that moving to New York, helping her raise Samantha, starting your relationship with her, you thought it would be enough to make up for all those things left unsaid. These past few months have shown you horribly wrong you were about that.

So every day you'll tell her. Every day you'll show her. You won't let another day pass without her knowing, with her doubting. You know she loves you. You know it with every fiber of your being. _You know._

"I would have given _anything_ to get you _here,_ Rachel. Please don't let him hold you back."

"He's not." It's the first thing she says and her voice is hoarse from crying. You're so grateful that she's responding and you take a moment to lay a soft kiss on her temple. You keep your lips there, sending a quick prayer of gratitude that she's with you. That's the thing with Rachel over the years. It's what Santana doesn't understand, what Kurt hasn't been around to see, what Carly has tried to get you to do something about in the past. Rachel sometimes just _disappears_ inside herself. And you're always victorious and grateful when you know she's with you completely—heart, mind, body and soul.

"Quinn," she's whispering your name, she's breathless and you think she's barely holding back tears again. So you're silent, eyes gazing into hers waiting for her to continue. You'd wait forever for her if that's what she needs, because God, that's _exactly_ the way you love her.

"I don't think I can make it without you." Her voice is still soft, not above a whisper and yet you hear her voice crack at that. And you think you know how she feels. Because most days you feel that too. The love you feel for Rachel Berry spurs you on. Her drive, her fire, the passion you see flickering in and out over the years after Samantha, that's always what has pushed you forward. But you know her, and you know how she's been drowning in her own fears.

"You can." Your voice is soft, not much louder than hers but it is firm. It's firm because you need to communicate your unwavering faith in her. "You won't have to, I'm not going anywhere. I'm never going anywhere. But you can. You, Rachel Berry, will take on the _world._ And they will _fall in love_ with you." You wipe the tears off her face gently. "We're here to make your dreams come true, Rachel.

"What about your dreams, Quinn? You've put them on hold long enough for me."

"Don't you see, babe?" You ask her, hand cupped around her cheek. " _This_ is _my_ dream. You, Samantha, this family, it's better can I could have ever dreamed of and I've already got it.

"Quinn..."

"I'm not like you, Rach. There's no Broadway calling my name."You're caressing her face, and your heart constricts at what you say next. "This family, this whole life, every day with you is my passion." You hope she understands because while you feel no calling in a specific direction or career, for once in your life you truly feel happy. Every day, every week, every month, every year with her—you've built for forever. No, you haven't always known how, yes you've guessed at so much along the way, stumbling and falling in the dark at times, but with Rachel's hands in yours, her arms around you, her heart, her mind, her body, her soul, all are a beacon to your yearning soul. She's your destination. You feel like she's always been that and finally you're allowed to feel it, you're allowed to live it. So no, no one is going to tell you it's wrong, no one is going to tell you it's not enough, because hell, it's more than enough, and each new day is a day of love, of touching, seeing, hearing, of feeling, of having, of being and belonging.

The life you have is exciting. It's thrilling. Being with Rachel never makes you want for more. And in both the good days and the bad days, the world around you is beautiful. "I have wanted to be with you for so long, Rachel. Do you know what it's like to know for years what you've wanted only to be kept from it? To live this life here in New York with you is my dream. To walk these streets, to watch you make your dreams come true, to help you get there, to come home to you, to have you come home to me..." you breathe deeply as the images of all that happening the past few years and the promise of having that forever and all the accompanying feelings hit you. Because really, you've been so happy the past few years already. Things have never had to be perfect for you to be so. You've found her. You've found the one you'll love through her faults and inabilities and you'll work on yours to make her as happy as she makes you. "To have this with you every day for the rest of my life is _my_ dream."

"It's okay to be scared, Rach. But you don't have to be. I'm not going anywhere. So please don't shut me out. Tell me what's going on. Let me _help._ "

And you don't know why she's suddenly sobbing but she is. It's a while before she's able to speak and her face is hidden in your neck, her lips against your collar. "You've already given me the _world,_ Quinn. I don't know what to do to be worthy of everything you've given me. I tried to stay on track, keep going forward, the shortest and fastest way is supposed to be a straight line… and it already got bent. But if it hadn't, what if we never would have had her? What if I never would have gotten _you_? And I could lose _everything,_ Quinn. _Everything_ but you two. _Everything._ " She's overcome with emotion again and she continues to sob as you hold her in your arms. It's coming from the very depths, you think, Rachel hasn't ever cried like this in the years you've known her, not even the day she had found out she was pregnant. "You've taken care of me, of us, and there just isn't enough time. How do I take care of the bills, the chores _and_ rehearse _and_ audition _and_ have you?"

"Rachel, you've always had me. I'm not going anywhere." It's the first time you're having this conversation in four years and though many would think it overdue, it's really not something that's ever been important to you. Despite Rachel getting pregnant, she still had a substantial scholarship from NYADA, and though it had covered only 75% of her tuition, her administrative and theater work covered the rest. In the past two years it had become even less of a problem as she was awarded a full scholarship. Things had been tight the first two years, especially when she'd refused her fathers' help after the first year, but she's never been out of a job, it's one of the reasons she spends so much time at school, most of her waking hours have been spent working one job after another.

You've only ever once discussed her refusal of her parents' money, and you feel even more guilt at not having discussed it further with her again. You'd wanted to support her, you'd wanted your silence on the matter to assure her she was right, that you agreed and it wasn't an issue but three years in and here it is. It's sometimes a real wonder to you how you've managed to keep this amazing woman when your preponderance for running away from the past keeps making you stumble and fall into an abyss of failure and guilt.

"You gave me a chance to be a mother, Rachel. A real mother. And I'm here. I chose this, we chose this—together. She's the most amazing gift you could have given me and trust me when I say I would do _anything_ and _everything_ for her. I would do anything to help you, Rachel… But Antha… She's not just yours. She's _ours._ That includes not just all the love but all the responsibilities and _bills_ that come with it."

 _Strokes_ had been a godsend. One of your Drama professors had encouraged you to audition and intrigued by how TV auditions actually go, you'd gone, mostly to satiate your curiosity. It had been a pleasant surprise to have been cast and the money too was more than welcome.

"I know," she breathes out, "I'm not taking any of that from you." Her fathers have always tried to help, every so often they'd send you a cheque, you, not Rachel because the first two times they had, Rachel had refused to answer their calls for months. Though you've never cashed in any of their cheques, they still keep trying. You're proud of yours and Rachel's ability to keep your little family afloat, but you know that's not what it's about with Rachel.

"Let me be here for you, Rach. What so wrong with how it's been?"

She takes a deep breathe before meeting your eyes. You see guilt and pain, such deep pain that you feel your stomach roll and your heart constrict. "I didn't know… I just wasn't sure, Quinn. Everything happened so fast. It was everything I'd always dreamed of but it was all wrong. It wasn't supposed to be _then,_ it's not supposed to be _now._ And I was so scared that it would all just fall apart again."

The intensity of her gaze and the emotions her slightly trembling body are barely able to rein in make it difficult for you to breathe. With a soft kiss to your lips she breathes life back into you and you remind yourself you have her. With her you can handle anything.

"To be near you, to be your friend, to hug you, to talk to you—listen to you, _God, Quinn,_ all I'd ever wanted was to listen to you. I wanted to know what you were thinking, what you were feeling. I wanted to be with you in any and every way you would let me. And then when we left for college… and you got those tickets… it was like all my dreams were coming true. New York, theater, Broadway, and _you._ "

She's breathing in deeply and you caress her face as her eyes shine with new tears she's trying to hold back and her lips smile softly at you. "New York, Broadway, all that is inevitable. But you… you were the one dream I never knew I could actually have. And to have you in this way, I didn't know it was possible." She's tracing a finger along your nose and again she's kissing you gently.

You're not sure how you feel. You feel all tangled up inside, your heart beating too fast and too hard, you think you're shaking, everything feels entirely too unstable and only Rachel keeps you from falling apart.

"I didn't know if you were going to stay. I've been so afraid you wouldn't. It was like every day I waited to see if I'd wake up and you'd be gone." Her tears are falling now and you think yours are too because you can barely see her. "Some nights I'd sit outside the building… because I didn't want to find out you'd actually already left. But you didn't. Every day I'd wake up to you and every night you were right here."

She's wiping at your tears and the eyes that look back at you are determined. "And I did the most horrible thing possible and you're still here. I'm sorry I didn't know. I'm sorry I was so scared. I'm sorry I doubted you. I'm sorry I hurt you, that I ruined everything."

And it's like poking you with a needle to see if you'll bleed. And it's like saying the exact opposite of what you really want to say to hide how you really feel about her.

"You ruined nothing." Your voice is hoarse but firm. "Even when I shouldn't have, even when I couldn't act like it, even when I tried my damned hardest not to feel it—I loved you. And I should have told you sooner. I should have. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough. I was so miserable, Rach. And having this with you, it's the happiest I've ever been and I was so sick of feeling trapped. I was tired of feeling guilty for who I was, for feeling unworthy, and I didn't want to wallow in any of it anymore. I was afraid if I thought about it, I'd feel it all again and I wasn't strong enough to go through it again. I should have been, I should have known and I should have told you."

"I'm sorry it wasn't clear. That I didn't make it clear. I just wanted to move on and I thought… I _hoped_ you'd see. That you'd feel it."

"No, Quinn. You're perfect. You've always been. This is _my_ fault—"

"No." And you know it's true. This isn't you trying to make her feel better. You do feel at fault too. You _know_ you are. "How could I not know what you were feeling? If I had done more—"

"You're perfect…" Rachel says again, softly, and the sincerity in her eyes, the intermingling soft, intense, gentle, passion in her eyes tell you she means it, and you don't know how it's possible to fall deeper in love with her but you do. You reach out to pull her closer, and bask in the warm glow of her presence.

You've taken it upon yourself to be the more responsible one, the stricter one with schedules and plans. You'd wanted Rachel to be as free as she could be, to let her revel in her dreams and passions. You hadn't known you were part of that. You hadn't thought anyone could love you enough for you to be a part of that. But in this moment. In this this very moment with Rachel, her very being enveloping all that you are, you know without a shred of doubt that everything she's saying is true.

You are given an unadulterated view of the depths of Rachel Berry's passion and love for you, and utterly vulnerable, sincere and true—you fall. You understand, and you believe, and you fall. Because even when she is the one undeniably in need of absolution, you feel you are too. And she grants it. Rachel has always absolved you of your sins, your mistakes, your faults your failings, she's absolved you of them for years and she continues to do it now.

"I love you, Rachel Berry. There is nothing you could do, nothing you could be, that will ever make me fall out of love with you."


	10. Tell her you love her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I originally posted this it came with a crazy sappy note of thanks to all readers and reviewers, but I'm not putting you guys through that, though the sentiment remains - I am grateful and touched by all your sweet and kind words. But mostly I want to say that I can only hope that in the time you spend within the world of these words, your souls are soothed from and your hearts are bolstered for the cold uncertainty of the world outside.

It's 7 am on the 19th of September and from the very moment you wake, the moment your eyes open you feel the warmth of happiness fill you to your very core. Your daughter is 5 years old today, born exactly five years ago at 3 in the morning, weighing only 5 lbs and 6 ounces. You had fallen for her much as you had her mother from the moment you laid eyes on her, and every day, week, month and year that she has been yours has saved you and given you purpose and meaning that only her mother has ever been able to give.

"Happy birthday to me, mommy." The very object of your thoughts sings jumping on you. You laugh, pulling her so she's lying down next to you and she squeals as she keeps the small bouquet of carnations firmly in her hands. You kiss her on her nose and she smiles widely at you before kissing the tip of your nose as well. "It's my birthday, mommy." she tells you again, "Happy birthday to me."

"Happy birthday, to you, baby girl." you tell her cupping her cheek. "The happiest of happy birthdays to you."

"Flowers for you, mommy." She replies, finally handing you the small bouquet of pink carnations. They're from Rachel. Every year Rachel gives you flowers on Samantha's birthday, every year they are carnations, every year they are pink. Every year too, she gives you the same on the 8th of June. Every year on the day of Beth's birth. Always and without fail. Every year on that day, Rachel doesn't leave your side. No matter the work, no matter the commitments or responsibilities, she is there with you, year in and year out. But today is not Beth's birthday. It is September 19 and it is Samantha's and as you smell the carnations before you, you see Rachel standing by the door a sweet smirk on her lips.

"Did you hear, mommy?" She asks winking at you, "It's somebody's birthday..."

"Me! Me! It's _my_ birthday!" Samantha squeals again jumping up on the bed.

You laugh as Rachel tackles Samantha and wrestles her on her back, before she lies down pulling the covers over the three of you. She gazes into your eyes and you see tenderness, sweet tenderness and love, and you kiss her softly as your daughter loops each of your arms around her middle.

Rachel is happy, you can tell. She's at peace, unafraid, content and satisfied. In the past few weeks you had stopped haranguing her about her job, giving her time, giving her space—trusting, _knowing_ she will find her way back to you.

You remind yourself of her strength, not because you have forgotten, but because she is your world and you'll take on the pain of everything if you could spare her even a little bit of it. But she is strong. She is brave. She is determined and capable and she will make the world bow at her feet.

Each morning the sun rises you see her flourish and bloom. Each morning your eyes open to meet hers you see the love you feel for her reflected back at you, you hear her whisper it to you from the very moment that you wake, you see it in the way she her eyes track your movements anytime you are in the same room with her, you feel it in the very regular and frequent kisses she gives you, the kisses she _takes_ from you, the way her hands seek yours every time you are within reach.

You see it in the way her fatigue dissipates when you pick her up from work at the hotel or when you show up at the school administration offices with flowers and lunch when you know she's working. You feel it when she holds you close to her, sighing into you, ignoring the world outside of you and her. You know it when she tells you how much it means to her to have you just be with her even for a few moments throughout the day, how you keep her sane and on track, _breathing_ and happy.

Two weeks ago you had filed for a leave of absence from NYU. It was something you'd been considering for a while and once news of the series getting picked up again for production had made its way to you, your decision is pretty much made.

"We're getting picked up by a different network. They're still working out the details but the producers are trying to work out a contract for at least 2 more seasons and if that works out everyone on board gets a raise… and we'll be getting paid per episode."

You'd barely gotten it out before her lips are on you and you'd sensed her pride in you. She was ecstatic. You were worried it wouldn't last but you had to tell her, she had to understand all of it, so you do. And when she tensed, frowned, worried and stressed, you had let her. Because you know how you worry about her, you know how overbearing you'd been at times in your worrying about her straying from her dreams. It had taken her a couple of long minutes of silence, a full glass of red, and you'd almost finished preparing dinner when she'd wrapped her arms around you, pulling you against her as she leaned against the kitchen wall with you in her arms. You remember sighing as you turned into her, and through the worry in her eyes you note the unassailable pride in them still.

"That's what you want?" She'd asked softly.

You had nodded, tucking a lose strand of hair behind her ear before kissing her chastely on the lips. "It's going to be full-day hours. Probably 8 to 5." And with nods and kisses, with holding each other and disclosing your hopes, worries, fears, trepidation, and excitement, you'd vowed to figure everything out.

"Is Kurtie back?" Samantha asks playing with your fingers, bringing you back to the present.

"I don't know, baby," Rachel responds. "Uncle Kurt was very busy the other day when I called. I didn't get to speak to him." She's fibbing. Kurt is back from a short trip to Lima to visit Burt and Carol and will meet you at the park for lunch.

"What about my Tana?" Samantha whines and Rachel rolls her eyes.

"We'll try calling her after breakfast, okay birthday girl?" You say. Santana should already be on her way, having made arrangements with you and Rachel the week before to surprise Samantha by taking her out for a special birthday breakfast.

"But why not now?" Samantha tries to wheedle.

And you're saved by Rachel's ringing phone when she holds it up to show a video call request from your mother. "'Cause I don't think grandmom's calling _me_ this early to talk to me today," Rachel teases her.

Samantha grabs for the phone while simultaneously answering it. She holds it up as you squeeze into your daughter further and pull Rachel closer so your mother can see all of you.

"Grandmom, grandmom, grandmom," Samantha chants as your mother's face comes into view. "Guess what?" She pauses only for half a second for effect. "It's my birthday!"

"My, my, is it now?" Your mother responds, "and how old is my grandbaby now?"

"Five, grandmom. I was four yesterday but I'm five today and I'm gonna be five for 365 more days!"

And you chuckle wondering who taught her that.

"Five for another 365 days! Well isn't that going to be great?"

"Grandmom, did you get us a present? Me, mommy and momma?" Samantha asks almost dropping the phone on her face in her excitement. Rachel squeaks as she catches it just in time and you give Samantha a stern look that she ignores as she looks impishly back at her grandmother.

Your mother laughs. She's always doing that when she's talking to your daughter. You don't, in the almost 18 years of living under the same roof as her, remember her having laughed even half as much as you hear her do these days. "Presents for all of you? But I thought it was _your_ birthday. Not your mommy's or your momma's"

Samantha quiets, mulling that over before responding and when you look at Rachel you see her watch your daughter tenderly, softly, _adoringly._

"But momma always gives mommy flowers on my birthday," Samantha reasons holding up your bouquet of flowers in front of the cellphone screen. "On _my_ birthday and _Bethy's_ birthday. And later when mommy is really awake she's going to get the flowers she's hiding in my closet for momma." She moves her face closer to the phone camera so the screen covers her whole face. "Flowers for mommy and momma and suprisies for me."

And you think you hear your mother sniffle and you pull your daughter back into your arms, laying her back against your front as Rachel scoots closer to you, threading her fingers with the hand you have laying on your daughter's stomach. You see your mother failing to hold back her tears as she blinks wildly over and over again.

"Baby, why don't you get our flowers for momma?" You say, and she scampers off immediately.

"Mom," you say softly as Rachel squeezes your hand.

"Babies," she breathes out as tears fall down her face.

Rachel sighs into you as she leaves a kiss on your neck before laying her head on your shoulder.

"You okay mom?"

She nods as she wipes the tears away, a wide smile on her face. "I miss you, babies. I'm so glad you have each other. I wish I could go out there more and see you and my grandbaby."

"Well, actually…" Rachel says softly, turning to look at you, "I was hoping Quinn would be free to come home next month. It's our former glee teacher's birthday and his wife is throwing him a surprise party. I just got the email today."

"Oh, Quinn!" You mother says, but her eyes remain on Rachel. "You'll come won't you?" Her eyes are wide and hopeful and she's looking at Rachel with such tenderness. You know your mother knows. She, Hiram and Leroy spend time with each other regularly. "Your fathers will be so happy to see you, sweetheart."

And Rachel ducks her head into your neck and you're beyond grateful that your daughter is jumping up on the bed again with what this year is a bouquet of gerberas in every available color. She presents it to Rachel, and because you know it matters to your mother, that it will mean the world to her to see your family happy, you turn the phone to show her.

Rachel's eyes sparkle as she takes the flowers from your daughter and when Samantha takes the phone from you to show her grandmother the newest additions to her toy collection, you think of how _every day_ with Rachel and Samantha is the best day of your life. And as Rachel swoops in to kiss you, you think of how your best days always get better by the second.


	11. In my veins

And it truly is much like the same night you proposed to her. You're even in the same bench just a ways off of one of your favorite ponds, same flavor of ice cream, your daughter once again asleep, this time slumped against you and this time it's nearing only half past seven in the morning as she had convinced you and Quinn to stay up and watch the sunrise.

She repeats herself when you don't respond, and you don't because you think you must be mistaken, imagining it, making it up or dreaming. She repeats herself much as you had but when she does, she takes out a box, a royal blue box, and then your heart starts to beat faster than you've ever been conscious of it beating before because there is no denying that there it is existing in front of you. Your ears didn't make that up and your eyes aren't making this up. She pops the lid open and your eyes widen at how beautifully set the ring is. It's an emerald cut diamond on a classic prong with three smaller round diamonds on each side on a platinum set and it's so beautiful it takes your breath away. And when your eyes meet hers, you just about swoon at the intensity of her gaze.

"Rachel…" She's saying your name and when she repeats herself a third time— _"Will you marry me?"_

You finally respond. "When?"

And her brow creases and her lips quirk into a half smile, as she repeats your response. "When?"

But yes, that's your answer. You mean exactly as you've said—When? And so you repeat yourself. "When?"

And she laughs. She throws her head back and laughs a full-on heartfelt from-the-core laugh and you watch her as her laugh travels straight to your heart's arteries, veins, chambers and valves. The sound of her laughter fills your heart and keeps it beating and the softness of her eyes as they gaze into yours, her lips graced with what has to be the most beautiful and doting smile you have ever seen on her yet. "When do you want to get married, Rachel Berry?" She finally asks taking your left hand into both of hers.

"To you, Quinn Fabray?" You breathe out, suddenly feeling both very sentimental and overwhelmed. "Any time, any place. Say the word and I'm yours."

And suddenly there are tears falling down her cheeks, and she's quick to respond. "Say _yes,_ Rae." And she's whispering in your ear, holding you tightly against her, your daughter squished in between you.

"Say, yes, Momma." Samantha adds sleepily, and when you and Quinn turn to look at her, her eyes are still closed and the little one burrows into you further.

Quinn laughs again, kissing Samantha's head softly before looking at you again. "Say yes." She repeats, holding up the ring as she cradles your hand—waiting, ready, poised.

And finally you say it. The ring is in through your finger and she's kissing you and you're so happy you can't breathe much less think. And the next few minutes are a complete blur because despite having to remind yourself to breathe, you're crying and Quinn is suddenly on her phone talking to god knows who about god knows what while you hold your still sleeping daughter and try to breathe through your tears.

Everything feels surreal and you don't know how long you sit there trying to get a handle on yourself and what's going on but when you do, Quinn is beside you again and she's biting her lip worriedly. "Rae, are you sure?" She asks. "Do you mean it?"

And you're not sure what she's asking but you're sure about how you feel. "I would marry you a million times over, Quinn Fabray. Any time, any place." You tell her. And just for good measure, you repeat it. "A million times over." And again she's kissing you and this time you pull her into you and you only stop when your daughter squirms between you.

Quinn is quick to take Samantha into her arms, laughing as she rains kisses on the child's face urging her to wake up. "Momma, said yes, baby girl," she tells Samantha. "Mommy and Momma are getting married."

Samantha wakes with a small smile, her eyes slightly unfocused and she yawns as she asks, "When, mommy?"

And then Quinn is looking at you, reaching for you and you let her pull you into her. "How about tomorrow? Marshall can get us a license today. We just have to go to the go to the city clerk's office, and he'll help us. We're not supposed to be able to use it for another 24 hours…." she says softly, her yes looking straight into yours. "So we have to wait until tomorrow… What about tomorrow? Will you marry me tomorrow, Rachel Berry?"

And along with surprise, the only other thing you feel is elation and before you even know what you're doing your lips are on hers and you don't stop until you're both so utterly breathless you'll pass out if you don't. You don't let her go and as soon as you there's enough air in your lungs you can speak, you assure her of your answer—"Yes."

And her smiling at you is like the sun and stars, the whole universe shining down on you. And you would say yes every second of every day of the rest of your life if you could have her smile at you like that every day.

It takes a surprisingly short time for you three to make it to the city clerk's office and the second you enter the building, Marshall, a tall, muscular, red-head just a few years older than you and Quinn, whisks you and Quinn off to get the various papers filled out and copied and filed. He plays with your daughter as over and over again the sight of the ring Quinn has put on your finger distracts you from everything.

It's only an hour and a half later when you and Quinn are both holding the marriage license in your hands that you clutch her tightly against you. It's so close. It's so close and you've almost got it and you're afraid if you let go of Quinn something will go wrong and it won't happen. So you hold on to her tightly, and she holds you back.

"Do you want to wait?" She whispers softly against you.

You shake your head. You would marry her today if you could. You would marry her this very second.

"Your fathers, your friends, Kurt…"

You shake your head again and look into her eyes. "You're all I need Quinn. You and Samantha. Just us."

And she nods, kissing your lips softly. And her eyes tell you she understands, her touch tells you she feels it, her lips tell you she agrees.

You hug Marshall tightly and he laughs when he sees you beaming at him as tears fall down your cheeks and still you don't let go. "Thank you," you tell him. "Thank you."

\---  
The 20 minute cab ride from the city clerk's feels like the longest cab ride of your life and before it has even come to a complete stop by your apartment building, you've already thrown the door half open and you hear Quinn's worried screech as you whip back to look at her scrambling to pay the driver, raking her eyes over you to confirm that your idiotic stunt has left you whole and unharmed while keeping your daughter firmly and safely sat in her lap. You bounce on the sidewalk by the cab for the briefest of seconds before you reach for your daughter and help her out as Quinn finishes paying.

The moment Quinn is vertical next to you, cab door safely closed, you tug the building door open and head straight down the hall to Mrs. Chung's unit, an old Vietnamese lady that watches Samantha for you sometimes. Before Quinn can ask what's going on, Mrs. Chung is pinching both your cheeks as she quickly herds Samantha inside. "Five afternoon, okay? Bye, bye." And she's shutting the door in your faces.

And you stop only for a moment to kiss Quinn passionately, and only because you cannot help yourself, before you're pulling her up two flights of stairs to get to your apartment. You fumble with your keys in excitement and drop your fob— _twice._ Quinn is laughing at you and the third time the fob flies out of your trembling hands she catches it mid-air and bumps you aside as she unlocks the apartment door herself.

You push the door open as soon as it is unlocked and you run to the kitchen quickly grabbing a stool and dragging it towards the tall living room shelves on the farthest end.

"Rachel," Quinn calls worriedly as she stands by the door looking wholly confused and concerned.

You throw her what you hope is a reassuring smile as you scramble up on the stool and try to reach as high as you can. The stool rocks under you and you brace yourself for a fall but then Quinn is holding you steady the next instant and you flash her a grateful smile. You continue to reach up as high as you can on your tippy toes and ignore Quinn's chastising you as you feel for that which you'd hidden only 2 months ago.

You cheer when you finally feel it making sure it's secure in your hands as you fight to keep your balance and not fall on Quinn. The second both your feet touch the floor, you beam at her and through the worry in her gaze you note that it is intermingled with amusement.

"Rachel Barbara Berry you are acting like a lunatic." And when you don't respond, merely continuing to smile at her, she sighs cupping your cheek. "Don't ever do that without asking for help again! You'll break your neck."

And you kiss her, just a quick peck, because suddenly you don't know what to do. Suddenly you're nervous and you need a minute to steady your nerves.

The mounting worry in her eyes is what spurs you on, because Quinn shouldn't be worried. There is absolutely nothing to worry about, not anymore and the joy you feel threatens to burst from inside of you. So taking deep calming breaths, you bring out a light blue box and Quinn gasps as her eyes immediately go wide. There's utter shock in her face and she starts to cry when you take the ring out. It's a cushioned round soleste on a diamond platinum band and you don't breathe, waiting for any indication of whether or not she likes it. She keeps looking from it to you and continues crying and you think you're just about ready to cry too so you speak. "Quinn, please say yes this time."

And when she kisses you it takes all your worries and your doubts and your fears and misgivings away. And when you pull apart, your hands are steady as you slip the ring in. You wipe away her tears, kiss her cheeks, her lips, her hair, her hands, and every single part of her you can reach.

It's hours later when naked and sated, you're looking into her eyes as she looks into yours and you're hit with the realization that Quinn Fabray is completely and utterly naked in front of you save for the ring you've put on her finger, and in approximately 24 hours, she will be your wife. It brings you such a delicious sense of peace that when you touch your forehead to hers, you pray.

"Heal us. Strengthen us. Guard us." You whisper, looking deeply into Quinn's eyes and you see the way her eyes flicker the very second she understands what you're doing, and kissing your lips lightly, briefly, as her hands thread with yours, she prays with you. "Protect us. Guide us. Bless us."

"Forgive us when we falter, fail and fall."

"Hold us when we drown in fear, ignorance, and doubt."

"Keep us in the warmth of your grace."

"In the warmth of your immeasurable love."

"Bound in your light and mercy."

"In the purity of all creation."

"Together forever."

"Together for always."


	12. Berry-Fabray

It's half past 10 the following morning and you're clearing away breakfast when there's a knock on the door. You open it to reveal a group of three women and one man hauling racks of dresses and various sizes of make-up bags and plastic boxes and you frown at them in confusion. "Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray?" The man asks with a French accent.

"Yes?" You ask still confused.

One of the women answers. "We're here to get you two ready for the wedding.

And of course you remember Quinn said she was going to take care of it, you just hadn't known what she'd meant by that.

"Quinn," You call out hesitantly.

And she comes out of the bedroom, ear still glued to the phone, but when she sees the guests standing outside the open door and perhaps your slightly panicked look, she ends the call quickly.

"Pierre, Jasmine, Courtney and Phyllis." Quinn points them out to you one by one. "This is my fiancé, Rachel. Yes, we realize this is extremely short notice but your team comes very very highly recommended and I am confident that if anybody can help make this day even more wonderful than it is promising to be, it's all of you. We will be leaving the apartment at 5PM sharp, not a minute later."

She ushers them inside, gets them situated and you marvel at how Quinn always seems to know what to do, how in her element she is when she's in charge and the ease with which people bend over themselves to carry out her wishes.

She approaches you when she's done with them and you take her into your arms breathing in her scent. "Pierre will take care of our hair. Jasmine is in charge nails and dresses, Phyllis, the make-up and Courtney is supposed to assist wherever she's needed."

You hum into her because of course, leave it to Quinn Fabray to find people to get you two fashion perfect for a wedding neither of you had even known you were going to have less than 24 hours ago. "Whatever you want, you get. Whatever you _don't,_ say the word and it's gone." She assures you.

You bring your lips to hers because _she_ is what you want and so you _take._ You lose yourself in her for a few moments and only Pierre clearing his throat softly reminds you that there are people in your home and what they are there for. Quinn gives you a quick reassuring squeeze as Pierre leads her away to look at dresses on one of racks they've brought.

Pierre and the ladies are not only professional and efficient but warm and funny as well, and the day goes by mercifully fast. You don't have much time to spend with Quinn as the team has you getting ready in your bedroom and they have her situated in the living area. You hear her laughter and aside from the warmth of the team, it is what keeps your nerves steady for most of the day.

It is 4 PM when your daughter walks in in an all-white high-neck jeweled satin dress with a floor-length tulle skirt and you almost ruin your make-up because she's so beautiful it takes all your self-control not to cry. Pierre momentarily stops working on your hair as he adds a delicate metal circlet of interweaving gold, bronze and silver leaves to your daughter's hair, setting loose curls only on half the length of her hair. Courtney takes hundreds of pictures of you and your daughter together before sending her back out to the living area.

You beam when you hear Quinn's excited squeal and you know she's just seen your daughter. You're halfway across the room when Pierre and Courtney both block your way and refuse to let you leave. You want to see Quinn, you want to see her as she too sees how beautiful your daughter looks. You want to see her and hold her and marry her so your forever can begin. You tell them exactly that and Courtney puts a hand over her heart and coos as Pierre actually gets tearful.

"We have been doing this for many years, Rachel Berry," He tells you. "Many, many years. Some plan this for many months, some a few weeks, some yes, only a few days. But I can count on the fingers of my one hand how many truly seem like love will keep them together for the rest of their lives."

And this time he cries. "It is an honor to be a part of your wedding. It is an honor to be a witness to your love." You are so touched you hug him. Because even if you were marrying Quinn Fabray whilst the two of you are in winter coats in some godforsaken alley in New York City in the dead of winter with only a single streetlamp to light the place, your wedding would be perfect. But here he is, here Courtney is and Phyllis and Jasmine and here they are getting you and your fiancé and your daughter ready. They are here in your home laughing and telling stories and sharing in your life and love and you feel full and ready for the future.

Mercifully it is not long before the team is satisfied with how you look, although earlier it had taken an eternity for all of them to agree on a dress which happens to be a full-length blood red lace off-shoulder semi-mermaid cut gown and you choose to trust them and hope Quinn agrees. You take one last look at yourself in your mirror and steel yourself because Quinn Fabray on a regular day already looks like a goddess to you, and while you're absolutely dying to see her, you also need to get through a few more hours before you can finally be with her.

"Ready, Rachel?" Phyllis, the sweetest and quietest of the team asks you warmly. You turn to her and nod and she reaches out a hand to help you cross the threshold.

Your world literally stops the second you lay eyes on Quinn. She has on a full length midnight blue sheath chiffon dress with a brush train with her long blonde hair is in curls framing her face like a halo. You find it difficult to breathe, truly you do, because this beautiful woman, this beautiful, strong, kind, intelligent, amazing woman is making the deepest of your dreams come true by becoming your wife.

Her eyes are misty with tears when she takes you into her arms and immediately you place a kiss behind her ear and whisper how beautiful you think she is. Quinn whispers her adorations in your ear and you are glad that the words are for you and her alone. Rachel Berry in the past had loved theatrics and big romantic gestures, but not with Quinn—never with Quinn. With Quinn, none of it had ever been necessary because just one single look from her fills you with all that is warm and good in the world, and yet still she does all of it, she pulls out all the stops _always,_ unfailingly.

Quinn's phone ringing is what gets you all into gear and it is Jasmine and Phyllis that help you, Quinn and Samantha get downstairs and into a limousine Quinn must have arranged for. You're in the car for a total of five minutes when you realize you don't know where you're headed, that Quinn hasn't told you where you're getting married, and only then do you ask her. With her eyes soft and lightly chuckling she asks you to trust her, and because aside from your daughter, Quinn is the only person who could never ever possibly let you down, you do.

You spend most of the drive stealing kisses from her and each time she laughs when you do it, and only _once_ does she warn you that you will ruin your make-up but _never, never_ does she deny you a kiss. The limousine stops after approximately thirty minutes and Quinn takes one last look at you, takes one last kiss before she she's stepping out the car. She helps you out first and drapes a new coat over you and she smiles at you when you help her with hers, and lastly your daughter as she is the last to step out. Quinn takes your hand in one of hers and Samantha's in another and you sigh happily, breathing in the cool afternoon air as you note that you are in Central Park.

A carriage stops before you and a coachman hops down in front of you bowing lowly. "This way please, Ms. Berry, Ms. Fabray, little Miss Berry-Fabray." And your heart clenches in the sheer sweet perfection of how that sounds as your daughter lets go of Quinn's hand and takes those of the coachman who leads you all to a carriage only a few steps away. You remind yourself that after all this that is something you should really take care of.

He helps you all up, you and Quinn in the back while your daughter sits up front with him and you hear Quinn sternly remind your daughter to be very careful and to listen to the coachman before she allows herself to sit back comfortably against you. You hold on tightly to Quinn, burrowing into her as the horse plods along slowly, and you think about how perfect Quinn always makes everything. She presses a kiss into your neck and keeps you snuggled into her. You don't speak, you merely bask in her presence and her scent and try to keep a hold of yourself as dreams you never even knew existed continue to come true right in front of you.

You stop by the Bethesda Terrace and as the carriage pulls up, you see at least two photographers and two men waiting for you. They help you and Quinn down and the coachman insists on carrying your daughter down himself and he lets her pet the horses before you leave. You make your way to the terrace and as you reach it, there are various people taking your coats and asking you to look every which way and just as all the directions and requests threaten to overwhelm you, Quinn is quickly holding you against her as she addresses everyone.

"We have asked you here today to help us document this event. Nothing less, not much more. You know your tasks, your responsibilities. Any and all photographs of our family will be candid. You will _not_ ask us to pose for you, or look at you. I trust in your abilities to tell our story without having to manufacture or fabricate any of it for the camera." There are nods all throughout and you marvel at the sheer perfection that is to be your wife. Dreams coming true every second, dreams coming true everywhere. "So please, _please_ don't overwhelm my bride and make her change her mind about marrying me." She adds lightly.

Everyone laughs with her and you roll your eyes at her before swooping up and kissing her passionately. "Don't you know yet that I wanted to marry you the very second you asked me yesterday?" You ask. "I would marry you anywhere, Quinn Fabray. I would marry you anytime, anywhere, over and over again for the rest of my life and each time it would be a dream come true. Because to have you forever, Quinn Fabray, that is what makes my heart _beat._ "

And you think you hear a sniffle from someone around you and as your daughter takes one of your hands and one of Quinn's and leads you towards the fountain, it is as though a miracle takes place. The crowd of tourists and residents part. They are solemn and quiet and respectful and they give you space as you make your way towards two individuals by the fountain.

"This is Judge Amanda Hale, she's Marshall's great aunt and she's in the city for a few days. She and her wife, Dr. Wicker-Hale, have kindly agreed to take a few minutes out of their vacation so she can officiate our wedding." Quinn explains.

"You both look very beautiful," Dr. Wicker-Hale tells you both kindly.

And all you can manage is a soft "Thank you" as tears threaten to escape.

Quinn's arms are immediately around you and you hear her soft voice sing to you as you try to calm down. When you're certain you've got a handle on yourself, you pull away from her to look into her eyes. "I love you, Quinn," You tell her softly, "I love you."

And it's a glorious few seconds as you continue to look into each other's eyes before someone is guiding your daughter up on the fountain ledge to stand between the judge and her wife. You notice that she is holding a bouquet of white flowers peppered with eucalyptus leaves and as you look closer you see that they are gardenias and briefly you wonder if Quinn picked them out and if she knows what they mean, _exactly_ what they mean to _you_ and _her._ You don't get to dwell on it because Quinn is gently tugging at your hand and lifting it in front of you both.

When you look at her you see that she's biting her lip and you see her eyes are glittering with tears she's trying to hold back and you smile at her reassuringly, squeezing her hands tightly in yours.

"Rachel Barbara Berry and Lucy Quinn Fabray, you stand before me today, before your daughter, before our God, and before these lovely people here to be joined in matrimony."

And quickly you look around because there is indeed a crowd of people watching you and Quinn, _witnessing_ you and Quinn get married. You see most of them holding lighted white candles silently between their hands, Pierre, Phyllis, Courtney and Jasmine among them, while two women with baskets go around handing out and lighting more.

"Allow me to take a moment to say that you have honored everyone here today by allowing us to be witness to and to partake in the glorious unification of not only two hearts, two souls, but two lives.

When I first met my wife, it was still a painful battle to be in love with another woman. When most of our friends, peers and colleagues were getting married, a legal union between people of the same gender was still illegal. For years we loved one another in secret. And when we decided we were ready to let the world in, I wish I could say that it did not disappoint. That it was accepting and supportive. Some of it was, but much of it wasn't. There were those that discounted us, our love, our commitment and devotion to each other. There were those that sought to lessen us, tear us down. Through the years we have battled, we have fought, and we have persevered. And when the world was ready to face the truth, when it was ready to open its eyes and its arms and grant us what we had been denied to far too long, it was every bit as sweet as we had hoped and prayed. We stand before you now having weathered, braved and withstood numerous storms and it is an honor, an absolute _honor_ and _pleasure_ to bind you forever not only in love and truth but in law.

In the hard times you will face, in the storms that you yourselves will weather, remember always that today, today as the sun sets in this beautiful city, before your child, before these witnesses, before me, and before each other, that _always,_ always must you _trust,_ always must you _accept,_ always must you _forgive,_ but above all, always must you _love._ For this right granted unto us is empty without the souls, the hearts, the lives you pour into it."

"Rachel," she says softly, turning kind eyes towards you, "I invite you now to take a moment to share with Quinn what you feel."

You blink your tears away quickly because if you cry then you won't be able to see Quinn, and you need to. You need so badly to see her in this moment, you need to know that she understands.

"Lucy Quinn," you start out, laughing lightly as her eyes crinkle in mutual laughter, "I love you. I have loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you and each second that passes where you have allowed me to see you, to know you, I have fallen even deeper in love with you. Each time you laugh, each time you smile, each time you just _look_ at me my heart skips a beat. To have been your friend, to have been allowed to know you is my greatest achievement and to be loved by you is my greatest dream. The rest of my dreams, _all of them,_ pale in comparison to you Quinn. Every single one of them.

"You held me when I was drowning, when I was in buried in despair and anguish. You held me up when I couldn't stand, when I couldn't breathe. You absolved me when I failed and faltered. You loved me even when it shouldn't have been possible to love me."

"Never." Quinn interrupts, her eyes flashing dangerously. " _Never, ever_ think that because you are the very reason my heart beats."

You nod your head quickly, squeezing her hands tightly.

"With you I am allowed to be afraid, I am allowed to fail and fall and fear. You are my light. You are my hope. You are my strength. And I know, _I know,_ Quinn." And your voice is soft because your next words are for hers alone. "I know how you love me because that is exactly how I love you. My love for you will never waver, never. It's forever and it's for always."

There are people in various states of tears around you but it is only Quinn's eyes that matter to you. The sun is setting steadily behind you, the sky painted with shades of pink and orange as the glow of the candles continue to illuminate the terrace.

"Quinn," Judge Hale prompts gently, and Quinn's eyes leave yours as she blinks her tears away. She looks at Samantha for a few moments before meeting your eyes again.

"Rae," she whispers, barely holding back her tears and it's not even a second when your arms are around her.

"I've got you," You whisper back. "I've got you forever, baby."

And only when she laughs into your neck do you let her go, smiling widely at her as she manages to smile back.

"Rae," she repeats, and you have to stop yourself from swooping in and kissing her because your heart is so utterly full it is positively overflowing with the love that you feel for this woman. "You are my dream come true. When I was so lost and broken and couldn't even dream for myself, you dreamt for me. You believed in me when no one, _no one_ at all, when even I couldn't believe in me. You believed in me and you found goodness and gave me light when all I could feel and see was misery and pain. _You_ were my light. _You_ were my hope. _You_ were my strength. Every single day of high school you saved me. And every single day now you still do. You save me Rachel Berry. You ignite my very soul. You set my heart aflame with your light and your goodness and your grace. Your strength, and your passion. Your determination, your commitment and perseverance. Everything you are inspires me, baby. _You are that for which my heart beats._

I chased perfect for so long but I could never be it. Things were never good enough, I was never good enough. Not worthy—"

You won't let her say it, won't let her think it, or feel it, not for a second longer. "You are _worthy._ You are _brave_ and you are _strong._ And to me you are perfect." You say firmly. "And if I have to tell you forever for you to believe it, then get ready, baby, because forever is exactly how long you will have me."

And it's not just Quinn who's laughing at your words, everyone's joined in.

"I am so far from perfect, Rae, but even when I fall short, even when I am... _less,_ nothing diminishes from your love. You save me. Every day your love saves me. Your hope, your faith, your love. _You_ are my perfection."

It takes all your self-control not to lose yourself in your tears and Quinn must be feeling the same because her eyes are glittering with them.

"Rachel and Quinn, do you promise to foster a bond characterized by honesty, fidelity, respect, trust and love, putting each other and your marriage above all else?"

"We do." You and Quinn say together.

"Do you vow to grow in goodness and in light never to forsake the other all the days of your lives?"

"We do."

"Quinn and Rachel, with the power vested in me, it is with great joy and honor that I now pronounce you wife and wife."

And before she can tell you to kiss Quinn you're already halfway there and Quinn is right there meeting you with just as much unbridled passion. For a few seconds the world stops and all that exists is your wife. And breathless and achingly happy you both grab your daughter, kissing and hugging her between the two of you as she squeals in blissful laughter. You throw your arms around Judge Hale because her words and struggles and wisdom have touched you and you do not have the words. And when you thank her, her and her wife, you hope they understand that you're thanking them for much more than having officiated and witnessed the ceremony.

You both sign your license and Judge Hale promises to take care of filing it for you as the crowd watching you continues to whoop and applaud. And with tears in your eyes you thank them, you thank them because they had chosen to witness your commitment to your wife with a respect, decency and solemnity you don't often see in this world. You thank them because now they are a part of your story, yours and your wife's, you have touched them and they have touched you.

Many of them congratulate you, some come up to you to wish you well, but you see those who set the ceremony up gently steer them away and though you are glad for the heartfelt wishes, you are happier to have your wife in your arms and to have her hold you again. You are kissing her when it starts to rain, and you only pull apart to check on your daughter. When you see she is safe from the rain under the lower terrace, with Phyllis and Jasmine who was putting her coat on her to make sure she is warm, you drag Quinn away from the crowd, a very easy task as you are the only two trying to get away from shelter, not caring if you get drenched by the rain. You take Quinn closer to the lake and when you stop, you spin her into your arms and kiss her.

"I love you, Quinn Fabray." You tell her, kissing her softly.

"Want me to hyphenate?" She asks lightly.

"You're perfect just the way you are." You tell her honestly.

"Aren't you the sweet-talker, Mrs. Berry-Fabray."

You beam, _positively beam,_ and you know she understands, she knows. _Damn right, Berry-Fabray._


	13. Reparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DarkPhoenyx, Miri, and TinyGuest! Hi, you guys! Glad you liked the last chapter.
> 
> Back to Lima for some more healing!

It's really a very short flight from New York to Ohio and while your daughter enjoys every minute of it, the slightly ashen pallor of your wife is going to cause you to have a panic attack soon. This is Samantha's fourth plane trip and second trip to Lima to visit her grandparents because while Rachel had fended off all requests to come home from her fathers over the years (even your mother had tried the one time) she was adamant that her daughter would not be touched by her own feelings and issues on the matter. And truly you are grateful for the strength of your wife because if your daughter was not on her usual best- polite, happy and sensitive- behavior, that she almost always is in particularly when travelling, you swear, you'd be vomiting in a bag. Because the way Rachel's looking and acting right now, you yourself feel dizzy and nauseated.

You know you've made plans, the countless and endless phone calls in the past two weeks, the chunk you've taken from your savings to do absolutely everything doable and possible on such short notice, you've already had done, but all of it you'd give up if she isn't ready. Because right now she doesn't look ready, and you would never, _never ever_ let your wife hurt, not even for a second, not if you can help it.

You give Samantha firm instructions not to leave her seat and gently you tug Rachel towards the lavatories. Once inside you pull her into your arms, whispering words of comfort in her ears. It's a tight fit but the way her arms hold you back tightly, and the deep breaths she takes tell you you've made the right move.

"Baby, I can get us the next flight back." You tell her.

She squeezes you tighter and you squeeze her back.

"I don't want to let them down." She admits softly. "They deserve so much better than the way I've treated them… And I want them to know—I need to tell them we got married." You nod. It's been two weeks but you haven't told anyone yet. Well, that's not entirely true, because yes, you have. You told Mercedes because she wasn't going to come back to Lima for Mr. Schuester's birthday and you really wanted her to be there. She had screamed and whooped and only her ridiculously busy schedule has kept her from storming you and Rachel in New York to celebrate. You'd made her promise not to tell another soul and while in the past Mercedes couldn't have been trusted with such massively happy news, you know your own Diva best friend has got your back this time. After all, so much of this weekend depends on her, on so many of your old friends.

"We don't have to do anything you're not ready to do. We can fly them out. Today. We can fly them out today. One phone call, Rae. One call and they'll be packed and at the airport in minutes. And we can tell them in New York." You assure her.

But she's suddenly smiling at you, looking far better than she has all day. "Quinn Fabray, you make everything better, do you know that?" Her eyes are looking at you softly and you blush at the love you see in them. "I can handle anything as long as I've got you. We can make new memories here. Starting today. New memories."

You give her a quick kiss on the lips and she nods at you as someone knocks on the lavatory door informing you that they need you to get back into your seats to get ready for landing. Her hand in yours, you make your way back to your seats and you're pleased to note that your angel of a daughter is still safely strapped in her seat, still captivated by the sights outside her window.

As you wait by the carousel searching for your bags, you feel Rachel pull you to her and when you look at her, her lips are in a pout. She holds her left hand before you and you note that she's looking at the ring you have put on her finger. She sighs dramatically before removing it and still pouting hands it off to you and holds out her hand for yours. You'd decided that as you haven't told your parents that not only did you get engaged just two weeks prior to your visit but had also gotten married 24 hours after the said engagement, it would be best to not wear the rings until you were ready to sit down and speak with them about the whole thing. And as Rachel couldn't put off her administrative work at the university for an extra day, you were only going to have a few hours with them before you would have to leave for Mr. Schue's surprise party.

Much as you know your wife wants to tell your mother and her fathers, you know she is afraid of hurting them by not having waited for them to be a part of such a momentous occasion on both your lives, and so you had agreed to tell them tomorrow at breakfast instead of today upon your arrival.

You unconsciously clutch your ring finger to yourself, frowning at her, and she laughs at you. She kisses your cheek lightly and demands you give her her ring back as you won't give her the one she's given you.

"You can't wear it." You tell her firmly.

"You're wearing yours!" She responds haughtily as she tries to pry the ring you've given her from your tightly clenched hands.

"Time out!" You say, loudly, laughing. "I'm going to slip mine into my necklace, okay? No one's even going to notice."

She pouts at you and it doesn't dissipate when you simply laugh at her.

"I feel naked," she grumbles.

And because you know what she means, you take her right hand, placing the ring on her pointer finger and rotating it so it is backwards and the center diamond is hidden. She jumps happily in place and you roll your eyes at her as she hugs her finger to her.

"Careful," You tell her firmly. "If they see it, they'll know."

And her only response is to squeal into you as she throws her arms around you.

Your mother is there when you get to the arrivals waiting area after you've finally got all your bags. Your daughter takes off as soon as she sees her and when you and Rachel are finally within reach your mother pulls you both into her arms. She lets go of you first, and pulls Rachel back in and as her eyes look into yours, glistening with tears, you give her a look of warning. You know she loves Rachel, and misses her but before the past year, she had regularly visited New York to see all three of you quite often, unlike Rachel's fathers who she hadn't seen in over 2 years. So silently you warn her, hoping she understands that Rachel shouldn't have to handle her emotions today too. She nods almost imperceptibly at you and when she lets go of Rachel she picks Samantha up and hides her face in your daughter as she perhaps tries to get a handle on her emotions.

You mercifully make it to the car without any meltdowns and you are glad that your mother still has a remainder of the old Judy Fabray who could not be ruffled even if the house was on fire when Rachel asks if you could stay with her instead if her dads have turned her old room into an office or a gym or _something._ You pull Rachel close to you but you don't look at her. Your eyes are trained on your mother's as they meet yours at the rearview mirror.

They are emotionless. Steely. Unruffled. "Sweetheart, it would be my absolute pleasure to have you, Quinn and Sammie stay with me this weekend but all our rooms at your house are ready. Sammie and I are sharing the guest room and your bedroom is the same it ever was." Swiftly she turns the conversation to what Samantha wants for dinner while you and Rachel are out with your old glee friends. When you hazard a look towards Rachel, you find her expression equally emotionless and indecipherable.

It's a short drive to her house, but you ask your mother to stop at the grocery to pick some things up that you claim to have forgotten to bring. You leave your mother and Samantha waiting in the car while you drag Rachel with you to the store. You choose an aisle on the farthest end and face Rachel. You sigh when still emotionless eyes stare back you and you grip her shoulders tightly.

"Rachel Berry-Fabray," You say firmly. "Your fathers love you. They have missed you and they won't care about all the times you couldn't come home. The only thing they care about is that you are home _now._ So be home with them, baby. Be home with me and _our_ daughter, and our _mother._ "

And finally she smiles. "Are you sure they don't hate me?" She asks pouting.

"Baby, I think even the woman who gave birth to me loves you more than she loves me. They're your fathers, how can they not love you?"

She hugs you fiercely, and you hold each other for a few silent moments before having steeled herself, she feels able to let you go. You stop by the flower section and grab the biggest bouquet you see, "It's rude to come empty handed," You explain when Rachel cocks an eyebrow at you.

"You're not going empty handed," she tells you as you pay the cashier, smiling that naughty smile of hers. "You're bringing the gift of your wife and that should be more than enough don't you think?"

You laugh. It's all you can do as you spin her in your arms because this Rachel Berry is the best of both worlds. This Rachel Berry is not only the best of high school—this Rachel Berry is also your wife.

Your mother's eyes are wide and unblinking when you get back in the car and you see her eyes specifically zero in on Rachel's hand. _Well,_ you think, _if she hadn't guessed before she most certainly knows now._ That is after all, her own mother's ring that you had slightly redone to include the smaller diamonds. Mercifully, she says nothing. She keeps her attention on Samantha, giving Rachel space.

After you pull up at Rachel's house, and your mother has parked, no one talks about how Rachel remains sitting quietly in the car when even your daughter has already been unbuckled and is being carried to the front door by your mother. You stand beside the car, holding your hand out to help your wife for whenever she's ready. The front door opens and there's a lot of squealing and laughing as your daughter is passed around. And when Leroy looks towards the car, at you waiting for Rachel, at Rachel sitting there seemingly frozen in place, his eyes glisten with unshed tears. And slowly, steadily, he makes his way to the car, hugs you briefly before shooing you away. You understand, but she's your wife and even if you hadn't promised just two weeks prior to put her first above all else, you still wouldn't have been able to leave without making sure, so you duck back in and remind her both her fathers love her and that no amount of time would ever change that. You wait for her to look at you, you wait for her eyes to tell you she's ready. And when she is, you press a kiss to her temple as you give Leroy's shoulder a quick squeeze before making your way to the house.

Hiram is waiting for you by the front door and he takes you into his arms, squeezing you tightly as you cross the threshold. "You've finally brought my baby girl home," he whispers into you, and his voice cracks.

"She's a bit overwhelmed," You tell him. Because though you love him, and really you do, you love him and Leroy and owe them the very life you live because before Rachel was yours, she was theirs—but your wife comes first, _always._ "She feels terrible for not coming back, not visiting and keeping in touch better."

He nods, he understands. Of course he understands. He's her father and if it were possible for anyone at all to love another human being as much as you love Rachel Berry it would be Rachel's fathers loving her. "She loves you. She got a little lost. But she's here now. She's home, Hi."

And through his tears he smiles at you as you watch him walk towards the car to join his husband in welcoming his daughter home.

You watch only for a few brief moments, making sure your wife is fine, that she's letting her fathers take care of her, letting them love her, before going in search of your own daughter and getting her settled before you have to leave to once again be reunited with your old friends.


	14. Be Okay

"I'm really glad you and Rachel made it, Quinn. I know how busy you both are." Mr. Schue's smiling earnestly at you and you nod, equally glad that you both made it too. "You and Rachel," his tone is wistful and you think you know what he's thinking about. "Can't believe I missed that."

"You kinda had your plate full, Mr. Schue," you motion towards Mrs. Pillsbury-Schuester and you see his face light up as he watches his wife talking to a group of their current students.

"So, you proposed huh?" He continues, raising a glass to you in a silent toast.

"Did Rachel tell you?" You ask, momentarily confused. You thought you'd agreed to tell your parents first, knowing it'd hurt them enough to not have been there. Neither of you want to make it worse by having them find out from someone either than you two. Unless of course it was _Kurt…_

Mr. Schue laughs. "It's on the wrong hand, wrong finger, but I see that ring Quinn. I spent months looking for the right one for Emma." You shake your head but smile back at him and he opens his arms to hug you as he laughs lightly. "Congratulations, Quinn. To you and your fiancé," he says raising his glass towards Rachel who is standing all the way across the room smiling and laughing as she wrestles a microphone from Santana.

"My wife actually," you correct him softly. It's impulsive but also _not._ You have a deep respect and fondness for Will Schuester, and mildly pathetic as it may seem, he'd accepted and supported you for who you are much more than your father had been capable of. You keep your eyes on Rachel for a few seconds longer as you hear her hearty laugh grace the room as Kurt spins her around in a twirl. Your heart fills with warmth and happiness and pure unadulterated joy at watching your wife surrounded and so clearly loved by your old friends. Mr. Schue's eyes are wide with surprise when you look back at him. "We haven't told our parents yet though." You smile gently at him waiting for him to respond. But then Rachel's voice demands your attention and both you and Mr. Schuester turn towards the makeshift stage and she beams at everyone for a second before wrapping her free arm around Santana's shoulders.

"Mr. Schue, we just want to say, we hope you know how grateful we are for all you've done for us. And in behalf of everyone from _our_ Glee club to your _new_ New Directions, we thank you for inspiring us to find and pursue our passions and dreams. Happy birthday, Mr. Schue. This is for you."

Santana nods to the band as she and Rachel sway to the intro of Oh Honey's _Be Okay._ The room is soon on their feet, singing and dancing along with your high school best friend and your wife. You know it's been forever since they've sang anything together and you see in the tender look your wife gives Santana that she's missed her much more than she'd ever let on. You see a similar smile on Santana and you know she feels the same. You're glad they're doing better now.

But it's Rachel that captivates you, _always Rachel,_ and you can't help it when your eyes stay on her as she dances, tracking her every move. And you can't help but think how positively _sinful_ it is to be as gorgeous and beautiful and sexy and _hot_ as your wife is. You face heats up and for a second, a very _very_ brief second you almost look away lest someone sees and understands what it is you're thinking and feeling, until you are reminded that you are _allowed to look,_ you are _allowed to think, allowed to feel._ Because God, she's your _wife_ and Lima, Ohio be damned, you're allowed to think about exactly how hot your wife is.

And it's over far too soon and they're both receiving hugs left and right and you continue to marvel at how every single day with Rachel is a dream come true. You know the moment she looks for you, the way her eyes scan the crowd, and the way her eyes light up the very second they meet yours. She cocks her head at you in question, a beaming smile in place. You feel warm all over and it takes everything, _everything_ in you not to walk towards her and kiss her until she's breathless just as every look, every smile, every sway of her hips, absolutely _everything_ about her takes yours.

Your gaze on her doesn't waver and distracted, eyes on yours, she continues to receive hugs as she makes her way slowly but steadily to you. When finally she reaches you, her arms snake around your neck and you pull her close to you, resting your hands at her waist. She sways with you slowly to a song in her head as she looks up at you. Her eyes are soft and it's exactly the way she looks at you when you've just woken up or when you catch her just watching you. And your heart feels so full you know nothing will ever compare to looking into Rachel Berry's eyes.

"Rachel Barbra Berry, you take my breath away." And she blushes the most beautiful shade of red, an impish smile on her lips. "Marry me again," you say, chuckling slightly because you truly will never tire of asking her, of making her yours.

"Any time, any place, say the word and I'm yours." She's beaming at you but you note the slight shine in her eyes and it amazes you now that you know exactly what she's thinking and feeling in this moment. You know she feels exactly as you do, you know with every nerve in your body, with every fiber of your being—Rachel Berry loves you.

"Rachel," the voice is gruff and not unfamiliar and you tilt your head to look at who it is that's interrupted your moment with your wife. You're unsurprised to see Finn Hudson, slightly glowering at you in his towering form. Your brows shoot up unbidden and Rachel's hold on you tightens slightly and your eyes leave Finn to meet those of your wife's once again, and you see that her expression hasn't changed. She's still smiling softly at you and despite the giant beside you, you smile back at her. God, this girl makes you crazy. You pull her even closer towards you, shaking your head at her slightly, as you chuckle softly once again. She's biting her lip and it's precisely the look she gives you when she wants you to be the one to kiss her first. Yes there's a look she has, a look you _adore_ and it's an unspoken request you vow never to deny. You move to lower your lips to hers but Finn's interrupting again and this time his hand is on her shoulder. You keep your eyes trained on Rachel because you know looking at him in this moment will set you off and you won't let yourself because your wife deserves better from you. She deserves the _best_ of you.

Your wife's eyes flash, it's the first sign of irritation from her and she's quickly and gracefully stepping away from him, pulling you along with her, still firmly pinned in her arms. You note a slight fury in her gaze as her eyes bore into you for a second longer before she whirls around, turning towards him while making sure to keep your arms around her middle as she faces him. She holds up a finger at him, shaking her head slightly as you feel her take a steadying breath.

"Don't ever touch me again." It's soft but clear and firm and she's looking at him dead in the eyes. You focus on holding her, caressing her waist gently trying to reassure her.

He blanches visibly but soldiers on. "Can we talk?"

She shakes her head and you tighten your hold as you feel her tremble slightly. "No, Finn. We're not talking. Not here, not now, nowhere in Lima or New York. We're not talking ever again."

And really, you think, how is he even still capable of speaking, but he is. "Come on, Rach."

"No." And you can feel her fury and wonder how he doesn't. "You know what you did, Finn. You knew _exactly_ what you were doing. I have never been more _disgusted_ in my life. And I know it's difficult, but try, just _try_ to find even just a shred of decency and stay the hell away from me and my wife."

You note his eyes widening in surprise at Rachel's revelation and he takes a step towards her in precisely the same moment you take a step back and pull her away. In the very next instant you're stepping in front of Rachel, dragging her behind you as you catch a glimpse of her eyes still blazed in anger.

You square your shoulders and lift your head to meet Finn but then Santana is between the two of you and is pushing him away with such unbridled fury that the hulk of a man actually stumbles back. "One more step and I will _gut_ you, Hudson." Her tone is cold and hard as steel and you wonder briefly at the depths of Santana's anger because despite your having stayed with her after what had happened between Rachel and Finn, you hadn't actually told her _anything._ Even then you hadn't been able to not try to protect Rachel.

There's something you don't know, you think, there's something you're missing, and Rachel reaching for Santana's arm, gently tugging her back with a whispered "Tana" confirms it.

Before you can think about it further, before it can further escalate, Puck is suddenly there too. "Walk away, man." He says softly, putting himself between you and Finn and pushing him away. "This isn't high school man, this is for Mr. Schue, don't make a scene here."

You know he doesn't want to stop, he tries to push past Puck to get to Rachel but Puck doesn't let up and Sam walks up to help. "No, dude. Don't do this to Mr. Schue. You owe him this." Puck nods to Sam and they each take Finn by an arm and lead him through the glass doors that lead towards a patio.

You merely tighten your hold on Rachel as Santana takes off towards the other Glee kids, both past and present, as you watch and wait until Sam, Puck and Finn are no longer in view, before you turn back to Rachel. You're relieved when you see that the anger is gone and she's pulling you back into her, an embarrassed smile on her face. "Still wanna marry me again, Fabray?" her voice is soft, her eyes teasing.

And you think for the billionth time how utterly and completely you love her. "Any time, any place."

You kiss her, finally, softly, quickly, as you twirl and dip her. She lets out a hearty laugh as you pull her back up and you twirl her again. "Sing another song, wifey," you say into her ear, and it's a soft rumble and you see her eyes flicker with desire. "Give your fans an encore and let's head home."


	15. To be young and in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because nothing stops the world from turning.

She holds your hand tightly in hers, swinging it lightly before bringing it up to her lips as she asks. "Tired?" Your heart beats faster at the gesture and you sigh into her as you pull her to you before leaning on the driver's door of Judy's car. There is not a second of your day wherein you don't feel sheer joy at being able to touch Quinn. "Baby, are you tired?" She asks again when you don't respond.

You pull away from her and tuck a loose curl behind her ear. "No." You kiss her lips because you can. Because Lima with Quinn is bearable. Because with your wife even Lima can be perfect.

"Good," and she's got that secretive smile again, the one she's had for the past two weeks—her eyes are sparkling and there's a hint of a smirk on her lips. "Take a ride with me before we head home?"

Doesn't she know yet that she never needs to ask? That you'd go anywhere with her? The moon, the stars, a new galaxy, an entire universe, heaven and hell?

"Rachel..." she's whining and you laugh lightly. God, she fills you with light.

"Anywhere, everywhere."

She blushes and you laugh again, pulling her back into your arms for a second before unlocking the door and moving the both of you out of the way as you open the door for her. You bow slightly before her and she responds with a curtsy and a laugh of her own.

"How gallant of you, Ms. Berry."

"Mrs." you correct quickly, "that's Mrs. Berry-Fabray."

And her eyes suddenly flash darkly and she's got you pinned against the car before you can even blink. She closes her eyes and you wait for her lips to claim yours but she stays unmoving above you. You watch her take deep steadying breaths as her eyes remain closed. And you feel an infinite amount of satisfaction knowing exactly what you're doing to her.

"Behave" she whispers roughly as her eyes open to meet yours. "I pulled _a lot_ of strings for tonight. Won't you help me make some of my dreams come true, Mrs. Fabray?"

"Always," It's a promise you will give her every day of your life.

You feel the loss when she walks you to the other side of the car and opens your door for you. You don't get in, and she doesn't move to leave either. For a moment, just a moment, she holds her hands out for you but then she's pulling them back towards her again, shaking her head. You hear her muttering something about schedules but when you turn to her in silent questioning she brushes it off with a chuckle.

"Get in, baby. It's not far away."

And you force yourself to because you know the sooner you get inside the sooner you can touch her again.

It is indeed only a few streets away and you're only momentarily surprised when she pulls into the high-school parking lot closest to the gym, your hand firmly clutched in hers. You turn to her and that secretive smile is back and you can't help but tease her.

"Dreams or fantasies, Lucy Quinn?"

And it's the most delicious sort of blush of hers, your absolute favorite, the kind that comes from the core, making her pupils dilate her breath hitching.

"Naughty" she smirks at you after a long beat. She stares at you at like that for a few seconds longer before she's jumping out of the car and running around to open yours. She pulls it open and is then pulling you out with such force that you yelp, afraid you'll lose your balance and face plant with her on the gravel "Quinn!"

And laughing heartily next to you before dragging you towards the nearest entrance is her response to that. "Lady," she says slightly out of breath as she fumbles with the locks, "don't you know yet that every dream that involves you is a fantasy that _saved_ me in high school?"

There's a slight blush coloring her cheeks and when embarrassed eyes meet yours after she's unlocked the door, you place a soft kiss on her lips. You don't say anything, you feel weak and mushy and only sheer love for her and her hands in yours are what that keep you up and moving.

The hallways are familiar even in half darkness and she's laughing lightly and practically bouncing beside you as you make your way through the school. God, to have had this Quinn Fabray hold your hand through these halls all those years ago. You don't know how you would've been able to get through your classes much more have been able to graduate.

You're surprised when she leads you to your old locker and she looks at you expectantly. Your brows crinkle in confusion and you shrug your shoulders. "My old locker?"

There's a massive smile on her face and truly she looks like a child at a candy store. "Open it" she prods, nodding at you.

"I can't just open somebody else's locker... I don't even know the code!"

"It's your code, it's not anyone else's locker right now." You're still looking at her, confused, and she's still got that smile and because you don't want to disappoint her, you do as you're told.

It clicks open and your eyes go wide. You jump in place turning to her. "Quinn Fabray! What did you do? "

And God, that smile, that beautiful smile on that beautiful face and there's the beautiful laugh you are head over heels in love with.

"Open it..." And with trembling hands you do. The locker is indeed empty save for 3 stalks of forget-me-nots held together by a white ribbon. _True Love._

"Quinn" you breathe out, your eyes misting with tears.

"No, no, no, don't cry, Rach. There's more... Let's go."

She takes the flowers from your old locker herself and places them in your hands before dropping a kiss on your head and dragging you to a new hallway and a whole different set of lockers. She positions you in front of another locker before speaking "Do you remember this one, baby? "

"My locker junior year?" You're still holding back tears, tightly clutching the cluster of forget-me-nots.

She nods gently at you, "Do you remember your code?"

You nod but don't move. You're finding it difficult to move, difficult to breathe, but again you do as she wants you to. There, there is a cluster of pink and yellow roses. _Friendship. Admiration. Devotion._ And your heart is so full it constricts. You throw your arms around her and cry.

"Baby, why are you crying? Am I doing something wrong?" She's whispering and you note a worry in her tone. And you need to make it better, you need to because you never even dreamt this was at all possible. You never thought anyone would have ever cared to do anything as seemingly insignificant as this but Quinn has. Quinn knows. Quinn, the woman you have loved in secret for most of your conscious life, Quinn the woman you have married—she knows and she understands.

"Why are you so perfect, Quinn Fabray?" And you chuckle, your eyes still wet with tears and she kisses you lightly by your still open locker door.

"No, baby. This is me making _my_ dreams come true, remember?" And it's all the better because to have shown you her love like this in the past was part of her dreams. To have wooed you and made you happy was something that would've made _her_ happy.

Before you can respond, she's pulling the flowers out again, depositing them into your hands before she drags you off again. The next, you think, is your 10th grade locker and you turn sheepishly towards her as she quirks an eyebrow at you. "I don't remember the code..." You admit.

"I remember," she reassures you. And she knows what you're asking and she explains as she takes your hands and guides them to put in the code. "Do you know how difficult it was to stop myself from watching you, Rachel Berry? Do you know how most days I dreamt of how to sweep you off your feet? How I would tell you I love you?" The locker clicks again and this time, you're dying to see what she's left inside.

It's a flower you aren't familiar with and you turn to her in silent question. "It's called an amaryllis. It means... It means I would give anything to make your dreams come true. _Anything._ "

And you smile at her, because you know what she means. In the days, weeks, months and years, it's exactly what Quinn has been saying. And now she's including all the years she couldn't say it.

"One more?" you ask.

"One more." she agrees.

This time you take her hand in yours leading her towards your first high school locker. You feel proud when she beams back at you.

"Do _you_ know what the code is?" She asks.

"Yes." You assure her. "Do _you_ know it?"

She's looking at you curiously, she's trying to read you. "9-25-5"

You nod. "Do you know what that means?"

She's biting her lip and there's a hint of hope in her eyes and yes, it's well placed. It's very very well placed. When she doesn't say anything, you tell her. "Cheerleading try-outs that year were held September 25, you were 5th."

And suddenly her arms are around you and she's holding you tightly, so tightly you're having difficulty breathing.

"9th grade?" It's soft- so very very soft. You nod against her, lifting your lips to hers.

"What did you leave me?" You ask, sighing happily into her. She smirks at you before spinning you around to face your locker as she guides your hands to put in the code.

"I'm sure you remember this one."

Her hands leave yours so you have to open it yourself, but her hands wrap around your middle- safe, secure, hers.

You take a deep breath before you open it and it's a massive beautiful bouquet of gardenias wrapped in light green wrapper tied together with a darker green ribbon.

"Who's perfect now, Mrs. Fabray?" she asks softly beside you.

And you take it into your arms, cradling it in front of you as you turn to face her. "How'd you know?" you whisper at her incredulously.

"Who else could it have been?" Her smile is soft and tender, her voice low and raspy. "I wish I'd been brave, Rach. I wish I'd been worthy of you. But I'll do everything to be worthy of you now."

"You don't have to do anything. You're exactly what I want, you're exactly what I need Quinn Fabray. And you are _more than_ worthy." You caress her face with your hand, your eyes looking into hers willing her to believe you. "Never doubt your worth, Quinn. You are perfect to me."

She's chuckling but her eyes too are misty with tears as she crushes you against her in a tight embrace. "Don't make me cry 'cause we've got a few more stops to make."

"There's more?" and your heart starts to beat fast again and you're excited and happy and nervous and scared at the same time because you are so deeply in love it physically hurts to breathe.

She takes you to the bathroom by the gym and she laughs when you hesitate, tugging at you gently. She opens the first stall's door and you gasp as you read the first stanza of Byron's _She walks in beauty_ in Quinn's delicate scrawl bordered by a heart of your initials. And they are exactly your initials, RBF - and more than anything that's what makes it hardest for you not to cry. Because Quinn claims you as hers. Because it's not high school, it's much much better.

"I couldn't resist." she whispers in your ear, kissing your cheek. "I wasn't brave enough then to tell you how beautiful you are so I did the exact opposite trying to hide it. But Rachel Berry-Fabray, never for a second doubt how absolutely beautiful you are. You are breathtaking. To see you every day is what makes my heart beat. You've always told me that you think I'm beautiful, but baby, you are the most beautiful person in this world. You are my world and everything is good and beautiful because you are in it."

You feel so much you don't know how to respond so you walk into her arms as you let her hold you. To have had this Quinn Fabray in high school would have killed you, you're sure of it, and you are suddenly feeling very protective of her because you realize this is that same Quinn from high school, and that's precisely what she's showing you despite what she thinks. That Quinn is your Quinn now, she's showing you what was in her heart then, shrouded and hidden lest she broke. But this Quinn, this Quinn with you though stronger and braver and bolder, is the same Quinn that felt those things.

You take her hand threading it with yours and you vow never to let anything touch her, to never let anything come even close to hurting her. And it hurts. It _hurts,_ when she tells you that _if nothing touches you, nothing will touch her. If nothing hurts you, nothing will hurt her._

When she leads you to your old Calculus classroom, she gives you a sheepish smile before drawing your attention to a spot close to the left bottom corner and you read out QF+RB inside a heart. "That was the only one I was brave enough to do. That was the day I got my acceptance letter from Yale. I was so happy and so scared... I didn't want us to not leave a mark. I didn't want the world to not know I loved you. I've been back quite a few times since graduation. And sometimes, I'd sneak in here and make sure it's still there. Because I told myself, one day when you're ready, I'll bring you here and show you. I'd show how I always loved you even when I wasn't brave enough to tell you."

You trace the tiny carved letters with your fingers, silently remembering the times you'd catch Quinn staring at you intently from across classrooms and hallways and fields, and how though indecipherable then, you know it's similar to the way you catch her looking at you now. But it's also different, quite different, because the Quinn then seemed to be angry and hurting, whereas now, when she looks at you… there's a softness, a gentleness. There's silence and there's space. There's peace and there's love. Love. Love. Love. And absolution. But no, there isn't always. Because with Quinn, it's as though a part of her always understands. And even when she doesn't, her love trumps the confusion and the pain, and the lack of clarity. Quinn fills in all the holes, all your flaws and mistakes and incapability with her love and she holds you up and makes you strong making absolution moot and pointless.

"I know I'm not perfect, Rach." A tear falls and you're quick to wipe it away. She presses a soft kiss to your finger as she chuckles. "But you make me want to be. The way you look at me, the way you see me even when I'm at my absolute worst. You give me strength, Rachel. You give me the strength to _rise_ and _forgive_ and _love._ "

She's suddenly twirling you and it's the warmth of her laughter that steadies your nerves and fills your heart. Her eyes shining and happy, tender and gentle, content and satisfied. "Thank you for becoming my wife." She says softly, her lips quirking into a smirk. "But think you could do me the huge honor of letting me walk you to glee?"

She laughs at you when you're unable to respond. And truly, you are rendered mute because there's more. Quinn Fabray is still not done.

"Rachel…" And there's that pout again. She _must_ know how utterly irresistible you find her when she does it. And because you do feel more than mildly overwhelmed, you don't speak, merely nod and reach out your hand for hers which she meets immediately. "You okay, baby?" She's whispering, and her eyes are boring into yours, searching, checking, making sure. And again you nod.

You say the only thing you can. The only thing that keeps you from bursting. "I love you, Quinn."

And with a tender kiss to your forehead she leads you outside of the classroom, and when you make it to the hallway that leads to the choir room, you see Kurt waiting by the door. He turns with a smile when he hears you approaching, and you will your feet to move towards him. He's smiling excitedly at you and Quinn, and as soon as he is within reach he pulls you into his arms, bouncing beside you much as Quinn had earlier when you arrived at the school. Quinn kisses your cheek before ducking inside the choir room and leaving you with Kurt.

When you're left with Kurt, you throw your arms around him and will your racing heart to calm. Kurt lets out a light yelp before he's laughing "Whoa, there's Ms. Berry."

You want to correct him, you do but you don't have it in you to speak right now. You take deep breaths: _steady, steady, steady._ You need to get a hold of yourself and you see Kurt's smile start to falter. "Rachel," he whispers.

You hold up a finger and continue breathing. He is silent but his eyes are starting to cloud in worry and he keeps looking back to the choir room trying to figure out if he can leave you alone so he can go and get Quinn.

"She's going to sing to me, isn't she?" And it's soft but you manage to get it out. He nods at you, worried, but still smiling. "How many songs?"

He frowns at you, confused. But you press on. "Tell me, Kurt."

"Three songs now and…"

"There's more," You breathe out, closing your eyes. Right now all you want is Quinn. Not music, not glee, not high school—Quinn. Just Quinn.

"Ready!" Brittany is suddenly in front of you in the hallway ushering you in and you grab on to Kurt's hand holding on for dear life.

Brittany leads you to a chair in the middle of the choir room and as soon as she's gone, you beg Kurt to stay with you and hold your hand. He looks positively petrified right now and he keeps looking towards the front probably trying to figure out how to get to Quinn without having to leave you. "I'm fine, just stay and hold my hand, okay?"

He's quickly nodding next to you, pulling up a chair and placing it beside the one Brittany has sat you in. "This is going to be amazing, baby girl. Why are you freaking out?" You sense his excitement and it helps calm you a little.

The first bars of the first song are playing and both you and Kurt turn to the front to watch your wife perform. You know instantly what song it is in the first few bars. Your wife, before she was so, had in junior year very uncharacteristically plopped beside you one particularly early winter morning up on the bleachers and without a word popped an earphone into your ear and played this song for you. It was a moment you had always treasured, a song you never forgot, a song you had cried to, despaired to and fell further in love to. You had wanted so badly to hope to it. To let it fan the flames of your soul that refused to die for Quinn Fabray. But it was too much. It would have been too much to hope.

When her eyes meet yours now, you know she knows you remember. And barely breathing you watch her lips make out the words, and you don't see your friends swaying in the background, barely hear them, because all you can hear, all you can see is Quinn Fabray then and Quinn Fabray now. You see the snow, you feel the biting cold of the wind and you feel the heat of her hand clasping an iPod tightly in them beside yours. You see her eyes closed, refusing to look at you and you remember watching her, waiting for any hint of emotion to cross her face and tell you why she's making you listen to this. And this time you know. This time when she sings it, when you look into her eyes, they let you. She lets you see her, she lets you read her, _know_ her. And it's beautiful. The hope, the joy, the youth—the despair, the yearning and the truth. She loves you and she tells you.

And you feel Kurt wrap an arm around you as you're unable to stop tears from falling. You will yourself to remember that Quinn is your wife. Your wife. And the pain of the past cannot and will not change your present and your future. And it is in this moment that you feel what Quinn means when she said she didnt feel strong enough to discuss the past. Six years in and there are still wounds. Remembering the longing and despondency of loving and not having still comes with a fair amount of pain. So you remind yourself: Wife. She is your _wife._

And it is as though she knows. As though she sees it, feels it. She's swiftly taking you into her arms and she's singing into your ear. _"Don't worry, baby."_ And for as long as you are in her arms you don't, you won't.

\---

It's over fifteen minutes later, after _Salvation_ by Aplin— which had Sam blubbering beside you as you patted him in comfort and understanding because as he'd said, "It's so beautiful, Rachel. She loves you so so much and when she told me when we broke up, it made sense you know. Everything made sense." And while it made you laugh, the hard glares your wife was throwing Sam as she benched him for the last number, sent lovely chills down your spine—and Laswell's _Comes and Goes,_ which you are familiar with because the morning you woke up in Quinn's dorm room the day after you found out you were pregnant, it was the song Quinn was listening to as she looked out the window, holding a mug in her hands. Her hair glowed like a halo around her face as at peace, she watched the sun rise. She had smiled at you when she had caught you awake and taken you into her arms as she spun you and danced with you, singing you a few bars. That day you weren't afraid to hope as you often had been in the past. That day you hoped and wished and prayed that it wouldn't be the last time you would find yourself in Quinn Fabray's arms… And the world certainly did not disappoint.

And here you are now, _many many many_ more minutes after that standing beside Kurt once again except this time in the gymnasium after having been asked by your wife to prom and dancing to more songs than you dared keep count, drinking the last of your miraculously un-spiked punch, a thing that baffles you because Puck is certainly in attendance and you are all above legal drinking age. Your wife is helping Tina take down the last of the decorations they had put up for your surprise "prom night" and she's waving her arms around her head before bending at the waist overcome with laughter. She's practically wheezing and she laughs even louder at herself when she snorts.

"Hey, bestie," Kurt says, claiming your attention and bumping your hip with his, "you have a good night?"

"The best." You answer, softly, honestly. You turn to hug him and give him a light squeeze before holding both his hands in yours. "Thank you for helping Quinn do all this for me. _All of you._ Please tell everyone I appreciate everything they've done to make this possible."

Kurt's beaming at you and you note that he's a little choked yup. "Anything for you, superstar. You know we love you." He seems to be blinking tears away. "You and Quinn both."

"I do. And we love all of you." You nod and he appears satisfied. And because you are an absolute troublemaker and he is your best friend, you continue, "But maybe you can tell my wife it's time she takes me home?"

Kurt looks at you blankly and you bite your lip in sudden worry. That's the third person you've told in the last twelve hours after having agreed you were going to tell your parents first.

"Rachel Barbara Berry, you did not?!" Kurt looks aghast.

And you know it's cheeky, beyond cheeky and you shouldn't but you can't help yourself. "Berry-Fabray," you say softly, "Central Park two weeks ago."

And he's whooping and screaming and jumping and hugging you and all you can really do is laugh because you're so happy. You are so unbelievably happy to tell your high school best friend that you've married your other best friend and that all your dreams are coming true.

Quinn is pulling you into her and she has a knowing smile on her lips, her eyes visibly rolling at you. "What've you done now, naughty?" she whispers in your ear and you simply smile back sheepishly at her.

"Quinn Fabray, you little liar!" Kurt says frowning at the two of you and stomping his feet.

Quinn is quickly covering his mouth with her hand and her eyes and tone are suddenly HBIC-hard. "You're going to want to keep this shut, Hummel."

Kurt is suddenly rendered mute. There are various emotions that flit over his face but you can't keep up and too soon he's nodding at Quinn tersely and she's returning his nod with one of her own. And before you can try to figure out what is going on, Quinn's tugging at your hand again, dragging you away and she's yelling to get everyone's attention. "You guys, we're heading home. Thank you and good night!" And Quinn doesn't let you get more than a squeak of surprise out as she's dragging you out of the gym, the school and into the car.

"Quinn Fabray, what the hell is that about?" You ask as she buckles you in your seat herself.

"Hmm?" She responds, double checking that the seatbelt has locked. "Getting late, don't you think? We've still got to talk to our parents tomorrow."

You think about what to say because you know Quinn is hiding something and badgering never ever works on her. And you almost miss it when she doesn't turn on your street. Almost. "You were supposed to turn right there." You remind her.

She only smirks at you in response. "Quinn!"

Laughing, she takes your hand in hers squeezing it softly before placing it on her thigh. "Well, prom just ended, what do you say you make one more of my _fantasies_ come true and come to my house with me?"

"Your mom's at my house," you say, confused.

"Exactly," she responds cheerfully, "make out with me in my bedroom Rachel Berry?"

"Horndog," you respond, your face heating up.

"I think you mean _wife,_ " the response is matter of fact.

"Precisely."

She takes her eyes off the road for a second to look into yours and she smiles at you tenderly before speaking. "Rachel Berry-Fabray, my life, my wife, my everything—will you let me spend prom night ravishing you in my high school bedroom?"

"Keep your eyes on the road and drive, baby."

And nothing else matters.


	16. Oh Lima

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's... a horrible time for me at the moment. I can't find it in me right now to edit and even just format the italics but I'll do it sometime in the future. Figured i can at least manage to upload the chapters even without the formatting for now.
> 
> Miri, what Quinn missed is revealed in this chapter.

Your phone is blowing up with calls and messages and you feel ready to hurl. It's eight in the morning and you and Rachel have just arrived at her parents' house a mere five minutes ago after having spent most of the night making more than a handful of your high school fantasies of having Rachel Berry in your bedroom come true.

She is in her bedroom now and you're in the bathroom with your ring clutched tightly in your hand as you try to take deep steadying breaths and fail each time. Kurt is calling again and you know that Mercedes' plane will land soon and she too will be calling you. Even Santana has called a few times and that's what scares you the most. If you don't call them all back soon, especially Santana, she or any one of them but really most likely Santana, will call your wife and if that happens you'll be lucky to still have a wife by the end of the day.

But by God you're absolutely panicking because your wife doesn't know yet and her fathers most certainly don't know and your mother might think something is up but of course she doesn't realize the depths of your insanity, because right now, it really feels like insanity.

"Quinn," Rachel calls, knocking on the door and even though you look a total mess, you force yourself to let her in because only she can make this okay.

She takes one look at you before she takes you by your hands and leads you to the bed. She pries the ring out of your hand and gently places it on your finger where it belongs. A quick look at her left hand tells you hers is where it belongs as well.

"Don't hate me." You whisper. This is absolutely not how you'd planned to tell her. It was supposed to be a happy surprise but you're panicking because she doesn't know—God, you don't remember why you didn't tell her! Why in glorious hell didn't you just tell her?

"Baby, I could never hate you..." she reassures you. And you know that's true but right now you feel positively insane and you haven't felt this out of control since high school when you and Finn had broken up and you had despaired because you knew with the absolute certainty of idiotic melodramatic youth that it was the last time because he had finally realized how utterly perfect Rachel was and you knew there was nothing you were brave enough to do or were capable of doing to keep him from her.

And you try to remind yourself as you breathe that it had worked out. That Rachel got away, that she left Lima, that she's making her dreams come true, that she's your wife. God, she's your wife.

"Marry me, Rae?" you ask her.

And sweetly she smiles at you, cupping your cheek. "Any time," she says punctuating it with a kiss, "Any place" another, "Say it, and I'm yours. "

"Promise?" you ask, your heart beating faster than ever.

"Yes," she laughs softly.

"This afternoon." you say softly.

"What about this afternoon?" she's still smiling at you.

"Marry me this afternoon... In front of our parents, our friends. In our first home. Marry me here this afternoon."

And she blinks at you. You wait for her to figure it out and you think if she doesn't get it soon you really will have a heart attack.

"Lucy Quinn Fabray-BERRY" she finally says slowly, drawing out every syllable. You don't breathe, you wait for her to continue. She called you by your full name, your very full and complete name so perhaps you won't be served divorce papers by sundown. And suddenly she's squealing and raining kisses on your face and finally you can breathe. God, you can breathe.

"Who knows? Who did you tell? Kurt knows doesn't he? What do you have planned? Where are we going to do it? Who's going to be there?" She shoots question after question at you and you don't try to keep up. You take her into your arms and kiss her hair, your eyes closed. Crisis averted, your wife, your bride will be marrying you today.

"Why didn't you tell me?" her voice is suddenly soft and small and when you look at her, you look for traces of anger but you find none. You find concern and realize this isn't about her, it's about you.

"You were worried about your dads... And about being back. I didn't want you to worry about it. They're going to be upset they weren't with us and I just wanted them to feel better about it. I wanted you to feel better about their having missed it. I did it for you... " You explain, "and I did it for me. Because I want everyone here to know how much I love you. How much I've always loved you. I want to show everyone who I am, who we are. There was so much lying, so much hiding. There was so much pain. But baby, with you I'm brave. With you I'm strong. And I'm going to celebrate you being my wife all the time and in all the places. "

"A million times over, every day for the rest of our lives." Rachel adds.

And you nod, your wife is sheer perfection. She puts herself in your arms and gladly you hold her, breathing her in.

You hear Hiram call for both of you downstairs and with a kiss to your wrist she leads you downstairs.

They are cleaning up in the kitchen and Rachel squeezes your hand tightly before addressing the room.

"Dads," she begins. She looks at you pointedly before you roll your eyes and add, "Mom."

Rachel continues "approximately six months ago I proposed to Quinn." It's actually a lot closer to eight.

Your mother looks on confused while both her fathers tear up and give varying shrieks of surprise and approval. Rachel raises a hand to stop them and confused they settle down. Where is your wife taking this? "now, my beautiful bride refused to respond-" ? This must be payback for the surprise wedding.

"Quinnie!" your mother admonishes interrupting Rachel. You raise an eye brow at her, some days you mean it, your mother truly must love Rachel more than she loves you. "I thought you were going to ask Rachel to marry you last year?"

And Rachel's looking at you questioningly and you pull her into your arms. Her eyes cloud with a familiar look of distress and disappointment, one she has when she's finding it difficult to forgive herself for something she has done and no, you will not let her go there, not now, not ever again. So whispering into her ear, you tell her the truth. "If you hadn't asked me then, I might have waited years to ask you to marry me. It was the right dream but it was too soon, I thought it was the wrong time and it could have all fallen apart." You use her words, words you know she understands unequivocally.

"We're here now," she breathes.

"We're here now," you agree, "You're my wife now."

She nods and you face your parents again, together. And this time you take over. "I didn't say yes when Rachel proposed—Mother, Leroy, Hiram—because my wife deserved to be asked. She deserves to be asked every day for the rest of our lives."

"And two weeks ago, Quinn asked."

"And you said yes," Hiram says, tears running down his face. "You said yes didnt you?"

"Momma said when" Samantha says matter-of-factly as she takes another sip of her orange juice.

Everyone turns to look at her and you and Rachel laugh.

"That's right, baby girl." Rachel agrees and all three sets of adult eyes turn back to her in varying states of confusion, hopefulness, excitement, and joy. "I did ask mommy when didn't I? And what did mommy say?"

All eyes turn to Samantha and you swear no one breathes as they wait for her response.

"Tomorrow"

And then all eyes are on the two of you, wide and disbelieving.

"You... You... Did you two get married?" Leroy finally gets out.

You nod. And Rachel nods. And your daughter nods.

And then suddenly the kitchen is engulfed in utter chaos as all 3 of your parents are bawling, laughing, hugging you both and each other, and jumping and dancing. You let yourself be passed around and when it's your mother's arms around you she brings you back to the rest of what else you have to tell them all.

"Why were you asking me to make sure the Berrys had tuxes? That I had a formal dress?"

And you wait until Rachel is beside you again before you continue. "I have vowed never to apologize for the way I love my wife. And let me assure you, there is nothing about her I do not love. Not a single thing. So I will not apologize for marrying her as soon as I could." You say as you take Rachel's hand in yours, "It has been the highest honor of my life to have made Rachel Berry my wife. And I'm holding on to the promise she made me that day she agreed to marry me."

You stop, you need to get a hold of yourself because suddenly you're in that moment again. In the moment where she first said yes.

And as Rachel's eyes meet yours and her grip on your hand tightens, your daughter speaks.

"Any time, any place. A million times over." Samantha recites slowly and your mother whoops as she takes Samantha into her arms as Leroy and Hiram look on still confused

"Dad, Daddy" Rachel takes over. "Quinn has asked me again to marry her today... This afternoon... Here in Lima so we can have a wedding that you're all a part of."

And again there's pandemonium and you marvel at the amount of noise you didn't know your parents were capable of making. But none of that matters for as long as they are happy, your daughter is happy, your wife is happy, then too are you happy.

\---

Your heart plummets when you round the corner of the house with Hiram and Leroy. They had asked for a moment with you as Rachel was getting your mother, Kurt, Mercedes, Tina, Puck, and Sam acquainted with Pierre, Jasmine, Courtney and Phyllis who you've asked to come down to once again get you and Rachel ready for your wedding. While your mother had been content to be surprised about the whole affair, Hiram and Leroy had insisted that they were available and willing to check on the venue you had picked out and make sure everything was in place and on schedule. You were going through the backyard and around to the front of the house due to the sheer number of people milling around the house and shrieking about their excitement over the impending nuptials.

And now you're frozen because even before you see what is happening, you know those voices and you know what they're talking about and your heart is blazing in sheer wrath and your blood feels feverish with venom. Hiram and Leroy stop as you do, watching Brittany standing between Finn and Santana trying to referee between them as Santana positively crackles with fury.

"She slept with me, Santana!" Finn tells her, his face smug, "Rachel slept with me just a few months ago and—"

"Slept with you?" Santana throws back, "Slept with you, you fucking asshole? She let you use her! You fucked with her head in high school, you fucked with her head when she got pregnant, and you fucked with her head in New York.

You knew Quinn was going to propose to her. I knew you were listening when Puck and I were talking about it. You've always known about them and you, you decrepit, soulless, fucking asshole, you went and fucked with her head again knowing you could have destroyed them. You knew it was going to hurt them. And yeah maybe Quinn was a fucking bitch to you in high school, but I've got news for you, Hudson, she was a fucking bitch to everyone! And sure, maybe you didn't care about her or maybe you wanted to get back at her, but you knew it would have hurt Rachel. You knew that if she agreed to what you wanted she would hurt herself and jeopardize everything she'd built with Quinn and still you went and fucked with her."

"She wants me, Santana, I can get her back."

"You fucking fucking asshole! You fucking left her there." And Brittany is barely able to hold her back. "She was a fucking mess because of what she did! Did you really think she wouldn't tell me? Did you think I wouldn't find out? I live 30 minutes away from them, you idiot! I was there the night you wrote her off because she got pregnant! I was there every fucking night she puked her guts out, when she could barely get out of bed in the mornings.

So no, you asshat! She didn't sleep with you because she wanted you! She slept with you because she was angry and hated herself! Because she was fucking stupid thinking you were what she deserved! She fucking slept with you to fucking punish herself!"

You hurt all over and really you should've known. You should have guessed because you know Rachel loves you. You should've always known. You want to say something because you think Santana is about to completely lose it and if she does, there's a very real possibility this will end in bloodshed because you know despite Santana's anger and warnings over the years, Santana loves Rachel almost the same way Santana loves you.

"Quinn doesn't know what we did, does she? I'm going to tell her what happened. I'm going to tell Quinn."

"How dare you?" Santana shrieks trying to throw Brittany off of her and really she almost succeeds. "Of course she fucking told Quinn. What sort of person do you think Rachel is? You are utterly, utterly despicable. "

"I'm not letting them get married."

"Oh my god, you cannot be this fucking stupid!" Santana says throwing her hands up, momentarily not fighting against Brittany to get to Finn. "They're already married! Didn't you fucking hear her? They got married in New York two weeks ago! And you know why? Because Rachel didn't want to wait. Because the Rachel that wanted the big fancy perfect wedding with you because you weren't good enough? She didn't want that with Quinn. You know what she did? Quinn. Just Quinn. All Quinn ever wants is Rachel and all Rachel ever wants is Quinn. So no, you can never even hope to compete with that."

"There's divorce—"

"Finn, please, you should really leave." Brittany finally says, pleading with him, as she's finally finally losing the battle to keep Santana away from Finn.

He doesn't make to leave and you're quite afraid of what Santana will actually do to him and what else she will reveal, but mercifully, Hiram and Leroy are moving towards him and together they lead him to his car parked on the street. They don't let him get back out and you all watch as he drives off.

You take a step forward but you don't know why you're suddenly sitting on cold, wet grass. It's as though your limbs won't work and you can't feel anything. You hear people speaking but you don't understand the words they say. Everything is garbled and you try to say Rachel's name but it sounds soft, too soft even to your own ears. But then she is there, her eyes huge pools of concern and you pull her down into your lap and hold on for dear life. Because without her in your arms you feel broken and in pieces.

"Baby," Rachel says, and you hold her tightly against her. She kisses your cheek, your temple, your lips, before touching her forehead with yours. She is silent. She holds you and kisses you and she is silent. And the next thing she says is - "Did you remember to invite Blaine? He's coming isn't he?"

And you're so full, so so full with love and life because with your wife in your lap, in your arms, there is literally room for little else, and you laugh. You clutch her tightly to you and you laugh with tears streaming down your cheeks. When you pull away, she continues to smile softly at you and she wipes your tears away gently. She touches her lips with yours once again before she speaks, cupping your face in both of her hands. "I am your wife and you are mine. If I have you nothing can touch me. If I have you nothing can hurt me. And I do, baby. I have you. And he can't touch me. He can't hurt me. And I won't let him hurt you again. But if you're hurting right now, it's okay. I'm right here. I've got you. But he hasn't hurt me, baby, he can't ever hurt me again. I won't let anybody hurt us again. I will never hurt us again. "

It's a full minute before you respond, before you think you won't fall apart if you speak and it is worth it. "Playing matchmaker at your own wedding, Mrs. Fabray?"

The smile she gives you is more than worth it. Rachel is always worth it. Your wife is always, always worth it. And softly, with a kiss to your lips, she responds, "I've got my happy ending... They deserve a second chance don't they?"

You catch a glimpse of the expressions on her fathers' faces and it is riddled with a sort of horrified concern. It makes you angry because they don't know what's going on, no one really knows what's going on, perhaps not even you, but no one gets to judge you or your wife. Nobody, nobody, nobody, ever has the right to judge your wife, most certainly not on half-stories disclosed in anger.

You twist around trying to shield her from them. "Is it true?" You whisper against her. "Was all of it true?"

Rachel looks at you searchingly before turning to look to your right where Santana is holding Brittany as Brittany cries quietly, her fathers are still a few feet behind them, silent. You know the second Santana's and Rachel's eyes meet because Santana's face falls, utterly breaks in a way you've only seen once before—the day she swore she and Brittany were over.

When Rachel turns back to you, she sighs but she keeps her hands on your face cupping your cheeks. "What did they say?" When you don't respond because you can't, she sighs again, "self-loathing, disgust, self-destruction, punishment?"

And you hold her tighter, as you will yourself to remember to breathe. "Some days, baby." She whispers to you. "Some days. Almost never now. You forgave me and you love me. You are always loving me. And if you love me, and see me the way that you do, love me the way you do-And baby, there's nobody else that knows me, sees in me the way you do- how can I hate myself when you look at me this way? How can I hate myself when you love me this way? "

"I've always seen and loved you this way." And it's a strangled cry from inside and you hide your face in her neck as you're unable to stop your body from shaking.

"I'm sorry I couldn't see past my pain." Her lips are beside your ear and she's clutching at you so tightly your body hurts but her touch heals you, it's always her that heals you. "I was scared and lost, and so so afraid. I was afraid to be happy, to fall even deeper for you because you were already everything I had ever wanted, Quinn, from the second you looked at me I was yours. And I have fallen so many times, broken more times than I can count, but if I had lost you... God, if I was going to lose you, I'd lose my heart. I'd lose my soul."

"You are my heart." You whispered to her because it's true. "You are my soul."

"And you are mine." She tells you firmly as she wipes your tears away. "You are mine. So if you need to fall apart, baby, you can fall apart. I will be your strength when you need me to be because every day you are mine. I will marry you today and any day you want me to. I will be your wife. I will be your light. I will be your hope and your strength. I will be your heart and soul, just as every day you are mine. Every day you are my world."

She heals you. Her words, her touch, her eyes, her lips, her heart, her soul, her very being heals you. You pull her over you as lay your back flat on the grass with her on top of you before you roll her over so she is on the bottom and you are on top, arms braced on either side of her so you don't crush her. "And you're mine, Rae. You're mine. And I promise you Rachel Berry-Fabray, I will love you every day for the rest of our lives. I will love you each day the sun rises, each night the sun sets. I will love you each day it rains, each day it pours. I will love you when the clouds hide the stars, when the moon is full or halved or in slivers. I will love you every moment of every day for forever. So when you are sad or afraid or hurting or angry or doubting yourself, remember that I love you. I have always loved you and I will always love you. Remember that there is nothing you can do to make me love you any less. Nothing. Not ever. I love you, Rachel. I love you."


	17. Families in all forms

Quinn is in your bedroom, washed, dried and clean and getting her hair and make-up done first. And you're in the kitchen getting a bottle of water when Santana walks in.

"Look, Rach. I'm sorry."

And you know she means it because the only time Santana Lopez doesn't throw an insult at you is when she's done something she feels incredibly guilty about.

"He just wouldn't stop and I didn't know any of them were out there listening... I didn't know Quinn was listening."

You look at her quietly for a few moments and she fidgets before you. "I'm not upset about Finn, Santana. I'm not upset about Quinn. Sure, today isn't the ideal day for you to tell my wife what I told you in the strictest of confidences," Yes, okay, maybe you'll milk that guilt a little because Santana rarely takes anything seriously and you need to keep her safe from her own anger if not for her sake then for Brittany's, and your daughter's and Quinn's, and yes, because you really do love her, for your sake too. "nor was it your place to do so. But have you met my wife? This world turns for Quinn Fabray. She'll be just fine."

She makes a face and you laugh "It's disgusting how you really believe that. You two deserve each other." It's her eyes that betray her real emotions. Santana has always had a soft spot for Quinn. And you. Now that you're looking, now that you're letting yourself see, ready and unafraid, you know she has one for you too. "For the record, Rach, you told me, not Quinn. Quinn never said anything, not even then. And this asshat running his mouth—"

"I need you to stay away from him, Santana." you tell her, your voice clear and firm. "You're our family and I don't want him laying anymore claims on our lives." You choose your words very carefully. "I was weak, and in pain and stupid. But we both know that I did make that mistake. Quinn's forgiven me, and I'm learning to forgive myself. So if you can, please try forgive me. And if you can't forgive Finn, just let him be. We're family, Tana. He's not. He doesn't have to be part of our lives. Not now, not ever again."

"Why the hell do you think I need to forgive you?" She asks, her face a mass of irate confusion. "You ask for nobody's forgiveness but Quinn's. Nobody's."

She pushes you back lightly, angrily, before she's pulling you back into her arms in a tight embrace. "You ever feel like that again, hobbit, I'm your girl. Don't go fucking hiding inside yourself for years and screwing up your family." Her hold on you tightens. "I'm fucking here and if anybody gets it, I do. I've lost the one thing I've ever wanted and needed, and I don't know how to get it back or how to keep it if I even figure out how to get it."

"You ask it to marry you, Santana. You tell her you love her and then you ask her to stay with you forever and marry you." You whisper.

She pulls away from you so quickly it would have been hilarious if the pain in her eyes wasn't so obvious. She doesn't respond and you don't wait for her to. You give her shoulder a quick squeeze before you head to your room to join your wife in getting ready for the wedding. Santana is a big girl and you trust her to figure this out. And well, you might have perhaps already invited Brittany to visit New York in case Santana's too chicken to do anything today. After all, now that you've seen her apartment, you know there's more than enough room for her to host Brittany for a few days, or weeks, or well, for her to move in really.

You don't get very far before you run into Judy and Samantha.

"Momma," Samantha calls plaintively reaching for you. You note the distress in Judy's face and quickly take your daughter into your arms.

"She might have a bit of a temperature," Judy explains.

You feel her forehead with your lips, momentarily satisfied that it doesn't feel different from normal though you do head to the bathroom for a thermometer.

"Momma" Samantha says again.

"Yes, baby girl?" You ask as you sit her on the bathroom counter as you search the medicine cabinet. "What hurts?"

She places both her hands on her stomach in response.

You clean the thermometer before popping it into her mouth and rub circles on her stomach as you wait for the thermometer to beep. When it does you note that her temperature is within normal range, you show Judy but her frown only deepens, now confused as to why her granddaughter is unwell.

You look at Samantha, your eyes on hers. "Did grandmom, grandpa, or pop-pop give you any ice cream?" She shakes her head and Judy does as well.

"Cookies?" She holds up a finger as Judy supplies - oatmeal and raisin.

"Just one?" you confirm and Judy nods.

"Did you drink all your milk at breakfast." She and Judy nod simultaneously.

"Are there too many people?" You ask, your eyes gazing into Samantha's once again.

She pouts but nods slowly. You kiss the tip of her nose before taking her into your arms once again. Judy sighs next to you before cupping a hand to Samantha's cheek.

"Quinnie used to get like that..." she murmurs softly." She'd hide in her closet and I'd tell her father she was playing hide and seek with the other children so she wouldn't get in trouble."

You give Judy a sad smile and hug her briefly before you head for your bedroom where Quinn is supposed to be getting her hair and make-up done. You stop by the doorway for a moment, silently marveling at your wife's beauty before she takes notice of you and you're treated to being a witness to seeing Quinn Fabray's whole being light up. It lasts a few moments as her eyes gaze into yours before they dim at the sight of your daughter in your arms who now has her thumb in her mouth.

"Oh baby," She coos from across the room, swiftly getting up and taking Samantha into her arms. She places her lips on Samantha's forehead much as you had just minutes before, and a frown creases her forehead as she tries to figure out if your little one has a fever. You shake your head when she looks at you and she lifts Samantha's face to look into her eyes.

"Tired, baby?" She whispers.

Samantha lays her head onto Quinn's shoulder as she lightly runs her little fingers on Quinn's collarbone. "Cuddles, mommy." she requests.

Quinn "hmms" and ever sensitive, the four take their leave, though Pierre does mouth 15 minutes to you before pulling the door closed behind them.

You watch Quinn lay her down on the bed, tucking in the blanket around her before laying down beside her. "Momma..." Samantha calls again for you, pouting as she reaches a hand out for you and it is Quinn who pulls you towards the bed. You're snuggled between the two of them with you in the middle and Samantha burrowing into you as she holds on to Quinn's hand tightly. You feel Quinn kiss your neck and you turn towards her slightly as you wait for her to kiss your lips. She does and you sigh into her, breathing in her scent for a moment before turning back to hold your daughter.

In a few minutes, no more than five, Samantha is asleep breathing softly and steadily and you turn to face Quinn, claiming her lips with yours.

"How're you doing?" You ask her.

"Missing you." She responds softly, honestly. You know exactly what she means.

"You've got me," you tell her, kissing her cheek. "You'll have me forever."

You stay like that, snuggled into each other before a soft knock on the door and the New York team shuffle back in and pry you apart.

This time, when you insist you and Quinn be readied in the same room they don't argue and simply get to work.

"This is quite a place," Jasmine starts after an hour of prep. "Quinn, you didn't tell us you were a cheerleader."

Your wife turns scarlet and you can't help the grin on your face as you remember Quinn in her cheerleading uniform. "Head cheerleader," You add. "Led the squad to winning consecutive championships." Everything Quinn does and achieves fills you with pride. Hell, the way she blinks fills you with pride.

"Rachel," Quinn whines.

And you're glad you're getting ready in the same room because you can pull her into your arms and kiss her whenever you want.

Phyllis aaws, and Courtney hoots while Pierre and Jasmine complain good naturedly about your messing up their handiwork. Samantha stirs in bed and everyone quiets down a bit. You check your watch and decide she's napped long enough and wake her gently as Quinn calls for Judy to take her for a snack. She's still sleepy and yawning when she willingly snuggles into Judy's arms and you note the sense of peace and look of tenderness in Judy's face as she leaves the room with Samantha.

"I thought Rachel carried Samantha?" Jasmine asks, tearing your attention away from your sentimental musings, holding up an old glee photo with Quinn quite heavily pregnant on the front.

You freeze for just a second before your eyes seek out Quinn's, but she's looking out the window a wistful smile in place. You walk towards her and place a hand gently on her shoulder. She cups a hand over it and smiles softly at the four.

"Rachel did. But I got pregnant when I was 16… and my parents threw me out. Things were very unstable and… I didn't want that for my baby. So I gave her up for adoption. She's 8 now. She and her mom travel a lot, but right now, they're living here Lima, and I come to visit her whenever they say I can."

It's time for you to tell her. "Quinn," you say softly.

And she turns slowly to look at you. You don't say anything for few seconds and she rolls her eyes at you. "Rachel…" she starts, "You didn't have to. I don't want you having to deal with Shelby today."

You shake your head. "I don't want us to be married here and not have Beth with us." You kneel in front of her, taking both her hands in yours. "I don't know what the heck Shelby is but Beth… Beth's family. She's part of our family Quinn and I know it can't possibly mean as much to me to have her here as it does to you, but baby, I promise I'm a close second. I'd deal with Shelby every day if it means you get to be in Beth's life every day." This isn't a new sentiment but you're learning even more how protective Quinn is of you and you know she needs to hear it.

She pulls you up and into her lap, wrapping her arms tightly around you. "Thank you," she whispers in your ear. "Thank you."

It's not long after that that your dad knocks on the door and calls out, "Little blonde delivery for the Berry-Fabrays…"

Quinn tenses next to you but a wide smile blossoms on her face the second Beth walks through the door. The child stops shyly by the door for a moment, only for a moment as she flies into Quinn's arms the second she sees her. Your wife's tinkling laughter fills your heart with warmth and joy and your heart clenches in love when Beth hugs her tightly. Quinn kisses her temple and her cheek, when they pull apart and Beth reaches for your hand, shy once again but always so affectionate. To see this, to have this, to be a part of this, it makes your own heartache worth it.

"I'm Rach's special delivery," Beth explains to Quinn needlessly but your heart surges with love. You spin her around and pull her into your arms for a hug you're in desperate need of, because it's true, Beth will always, always have a special place in your heart because she is a part of Quinn. And there is no part of Quinn you won't treasure for the rest of your life. Quinn had trusted you with the most important part of her life when you promised she wouldn't completely lose Beth if she gave her to Shelby. Because you would guilt, suffer, manipulate, and give Shelby a million chances to disappoint you and let you down if it meant Beth would never know the pain you do, and if Quinn could still watch her grow in love and life. Beth and Samantha would never want for family or love. They will never feel abandoned or unwanted or unworthy.

"Bethy!" Samantha yells running in and you struggle not to fall back as Samantha throws herself onto Beth who inevitably crashes against you, and it's your wife in all her perfect glory that keeps you all from toppling over as she holds you steady. You roll your eyes at Quinn because your daughter is getting much too old for launching herself at people but she merely laughs as Samantha squeezes the life out of Beth.

You're made briefly aware of the other people in the room, Shelby has walked in, so has Judy, but your attention is drawn back to your own little family. Samantha is squealing in mirth as Beth peppers her face with kisses, such a Quinn Fabray move that it quickly turns your heart into mush.

"Bethy," Samantha is squealing again, trying to both push Beth off of her and cover her face to stop the kisses as she continues laughing, "our mommy's getting married again, are you gonna be a flower girl with me this time?"

Beth shrugs and looks up at Quinn but it is you that answers, pulling Beth up so she's once again standing as Quinn herself rains kisses on Samantha's face before pulling her up to stand as well. You kneel in front of Beth and take both her hands in yours. "Lizzie-Beth," you whisper, "will you be our maid of honor?"

Beth's face falls into a sad smile as she throws herself into you, hugging you tightly. "But I don't know what a maid of honor does…" she whispers sadly into you.

You kiss her cheek and pull back to look at her. "You just walk down the aisle after Samantha and then you stand in front with her, me and Quinn and we promise to love each other forever."

"Like a family promise?" She asks.

"Yeah," You smile at her. "Exactly like that. We're gonna make a family promise."

"Okay!" She's finally smiling and hugging you again, and briefly you wonder if this is how Quinn had been as a child, and what utter desolation it must have been to have so deeply hidden this as she grew up. Because seeing Beth like this is like seeing who Quinn grew into in New York over the years, but what if that hadn't been the case, what if that's who Quinn has always been and it was just once again set free as she left the confines of Lima and everything that kept her prisoner from herself.

"Well, it's a good thing, Uncle Kurt is prepared." Kurt himself says by the doorway. "And may I remind everyone that I did not have Quinn Fabray revisiting her Head-Bitch-In-Charge days these past two weeks having me run around to get this wedding ready for everyone to be late to it. And allow me to note that I do not appreciate finding out that she and my very own best friend kept the fact that this is a second wedding a secret." And then he's fixing a glare at you. "And even more finding out that even Santana Lopez knew before I did."

"Kuuurt," You whine, "you were here in Lima and Santana got me drunk!" And you blush and avoid Quinn's gaze because you also failed to disclose to your wife that you might've already told Santana you'd gotten married.

"I got you drunk? You only had 3 shots of tequila and a glass of wine, and only because you were wearing your engagement ring." Santana responds from somewhere in the hallway. "I hardly had to exert effort to get you drunk so you'd tell me tubbers had finally caved and asked you to marry her. I didn't know you were actually gonna tell me you two hell-raisers tied the knot without any of us there."

"Which is why we're doing this today." Quinn responds frostily for you. "Now everyone back off and finish getting yourselves ready before all you've arranged, Kurt, is ruined because no one can seem to remember to save the sniping for the reception.

And because when Quinn Fabray speaks the masses follow, everyone makes to leave, Kurt leading Samantha and Beth away. Only Shelby remains and she gives you a small smile that you force yourself to meet. You think about her being the reason Beth is there and it makes it easier for you to pretend.

"Thank you for having us here, Rachel." She says sincerely.

"It's our pleasure," You say, smile in place, "Beth needs to know she'll always have a family in us. She is our family and we need her to know she is wanted and loved. Always."

You note the way Shelby's face falls just a little before any trace of it is gone in the next instant and she nods to you and Quinn before she takes her leave. You feel Quinn pull you into her, wrapping her arms around you from behind, and when you turn around to face her, you place a kiss on her lips. "She's always worth it." You assure Quinn. "Beth is more than worth it."


	18. Mothers and Daughters

The truth is you've really already concluded that a Lima wedding will be a complete and utter disaster and you really don't remember any more what possessed you to have Kurt plan you a surprise wedding here when you could have just as easily flown everyone you cared about to New York and surprised them there. You were feeling sentimental, you think, and you'd wanted to create good memories in Lima because outside of Rachel and Beth, the town is truly a catastrophe waiting to implode on itself.

But your wife, even in the midst of all the drama that Lima always seems to suck in, is your light. She is your absolute light and hope and love in all of it. You hadn't realized how much it meant to you to have Beth be at your wedding, you're careful to maintain a very specific distance from her both for her sake—because she is a child and she does have a mother in Shelby—and for Rachel because the wounds Shelby has left on Rachel's heart have still yet to heal. But your wife is strong. She is strong and is constant in her reminder that there is never too much love—that a child should grow with all the love and support of a family in whatever shape or form they may come.

And everyone listens. Shelby listens because the more she sees of Rachel, the more she knows your wife, the glimpses she catches during the abundant phone and video calls your family has with Beth, draws her in. You see it in Shelby's eyes, in the way she watches Rachel when Rachel doesn't know, see in the way her mouth forms words she never voices out, in the way she holds on to her arms when you know all they want to do is reach out for Rachel. You know you'd never make the mistake of walking away from Beth a second time. Hell, you barely made it alive the first time, but you know the yearning Shelby feels, the regret, the hopelessness at having lost your daughter. So you know. You know that as you tell yourself to be content with the phone calls, the video calls, the visits, the playdates and pictures and videos and invites, Shelby does too. Only you know Beth actually loves you; that you get to hold her and love her and feel her love you back, when all Shelby has of Rachel are the parts Rachel reserves for Beth.

But Shelby has been good to you. She's been very very good to all of you and you know everything that has transpired in the past eight years, particularly the years since Samantha has been born, has had a major hand in all of it.

The first time you video called with Beth after moving to New York, Rachel had been home, barely showing, slumped against you in the couch in sleep, exhausted from her late night bathroom excursions. Shelby had called because Beth had wanted to show you the plie she'd been practicing in her pre-ballet class, and absentmindedly, because you too are exhausted from staying up with Rachel and making sure she is asleep before you turn in, you pick up, eyes only half open and bleary. You wake significantly when you see Beth' s face and watch as she tries to not quite successfully plie for you. Much of the world always falls away when you're in Beth's presence, regardless of the fact that it is only through a screen that you are with her, and it's quite a bit later when she scampers off to get a drawing that earned her a gold star in class that you notice Shelby merely sitting there staring at what is presumably a computer screen, with a bittersweet expression on her face. Only then do you remember Rachel asleep next to you and without actual thought and pure primal instinct, eyes flashing steel rage, you end the call. It's the one and only time you've ever hung up on Beth and had she actually been on screen you might not have been able to. But in that moment, all that mattered was Rachel. Rachel and the heartache you knew Shelby had caused and the lack of right she had to be part of anything about Rachel without Rachel's knowledge and consent.

It was phone calls with Beth for a while after that and it's only when Rachel is 30 weeks along that a video call request from Shelby goes through again. Your laptop is on the kitchen counter because you're looking up an apple pie recipe because Rachel's been craving and has been incessantly talking about a specific blend of cinnamon, apples and sugar, and the three of you: you, Santana, and Kurt, have scoured the metro on a regular basis bringing back pie after pie only to be deemed not quite right. So that Saturday, you and Rachel were going to try to make one that would hopefully mirror the taste she was looking for. You'd sat there on a stool in the kitchen, eyes wide, heart torn.

"Quinn," Rachel had said, bumping you with her hip. "Beth's calling!"

You'd stared at her, silent and unmoving. She had rolled her eyes at you and moved to the answer it and only then had you moved, stopping her hand. She had looked at you uncomprehendingly until you forced yourself to explain because of course it's Beth's face on the profile and you'd labeled the chat with her name with a myriad of heart emoticons but of course along with Beth would be Shelby on the other line.

And the look she'd given you was... Adoring. She had looked into your eyes, asked if you were ready, and her strength, you've always marveled at her strength, because there she was asking if you're ready. And you'd seen that she was. With a kiss to your cheek, she'd accepted the call, shoulders squared, one hand on her very pregnant belly, another around your shoulders.

It was the first time not all your attention is on Beth for a call, as your eyes had immediately sought Shelby. You had seen her eyes widen as she saw Rachel beside you, her eyes had teared and you had pulled Rachel into your lap when she tensed beside you. Your arms securely around Rachel, resting on her belly, you had brought both yours and Rachel's attention to your daughter holding up a book in front of the screen.

It was well past midnight when you had received a message from Shelby: Is she okay?

And you almost hadn't responded because Rachel was uncharacteristically sick again just earlier and she was finally asleep in your room, in your arms. She'd been sleeping in your room more often in the recent days, napping alone in there even during the day time. But you remember her strength. You remember the permission she'd granted.

So you'd replied: She's perfect.

Shelby and Beth had called more often after that- Shelby watching Rachel and you watching Beth. At first Shelby would leave her computer on so you and Beth could watch the same animated film sort of together, and then as the weeks had gone on, she'd leave the screen on so you could watch Beth just be. Often you would catch her watching Rachel too and one night, a mere few days before Rachel had gone into labor, you'd made it clear to Rachel because you weren't certain she was fully conscious of the fact, that the screens being on both in your home and theirs meant Shelby could see into her life whenever she was on it. And sighing into you, hiding her face into your pillow she'd merely sighed. "I want you to see Beth every day, Quinn. Every day possible, I want you to see her."

And because even when Rachel had gone back to school, and was rarely there for the week day video calls, Shelby had still let you be a part of Beth's life, you'd let her into yours and Samantha's. Letting Shelby see Samantha, letting her get to know the child, listening to her speak, sing, react and simply watch Samantha had been purely conscious and intentional and had little to do with Beth and everything to do with Rachel. Samantha was a blank slate much as Beth had been, but Samantha was Rachel's. You'd seen photos of Rachel as a child, more so in the years that you had gone back to Lima to visit your mother and her fathers and in the times they actually lived there, Beth, and you know the similarities were remarkable. You'd tested Shelby week in and out, month after month, year after year, waiting for her to prove herself worthy of another chance with Rachel because there was absolutely no way you would further let her into Rachel's life only to have her hurt Rachel by walking out again. And five years in, despite the sporadic nature that keeping touch has morphed into over the years as Beth and Samantha grew, you know none of it is out of malice and is merely a consequence of everyone's busy schedules including your own but particularly due to Shelby's love affair with travel, and especially because of the steadily growing children who need stimulus and adventure outside those that computer screens can provide.

Beth has been to more states and countries than you have at the young age of eight and you are always glad to see her flourish in her ever new surroundings. You wonder at times if she needs more stability and constancy in her life, a proper place to call home because the constant travelling can't possibly provide her with one; and similarly you wonder if you are remiss in the way you have raised Samantha because she has only been ever been to New York and Lima and a handful of places along the bordering states. Has your youth and own road to self-realization robbed Samantha of a worldly life of culture and adventure? Has Shelby's dreams and passions similarly robbed Beth of roots and family and home? These are questions you've long been asking yourself and always it is rendered moot when your younger daughter launches herself into your arms and asks you to create worlds for her in stories and song at all hours of the waking day, and when your older daughter's voice and face beam at you from screens and lines talking of uncovering mysteries and light and air and green and bugs with the love of sharing and inclusion.

In the beginning you had wondered what life would have been like had you kept Beth. It's not something you can stop yourself from thinking about, but the truth is, there's never really been a scenario your mind's thought up where you know you'd be able to give Beth better than she has now. All you would have achieved had you kept her was to love her selfishly with less regard for her future and overall well-being than your own guilt and need to love and keep her. You know if you had kept her, you would have been stuck in Lima with her and she with you. There was no way you would've been able to maintain a GPA good enough to have gotten into Yale while caring for an infant and even if you had been able to do that, you couldn't have moved alone to New Haven with a toddler. You would have stayed in Lima, gone to community college and led a trapped, mediocre life and your daughter would have suffered for it. At the time, you hadn't even been certain your mother wasn't going to just change her mind and throw you out again, and then where would you two have ended up? And you were willing to suffer, you are willing to suffer, but not if it meant Beth would too.

You sometimes marvel at how just a few years makes such a massive difference. Samantha is already five and Beth is only eight. You can't help but think about what it would have been like if you had just known what lay outside of Lima. If you had just known with absolute certainty that you could have given her a proper chance at the world. You think about what it would have been like if you had just been a little bit older. If you had just been a lot braver, a lot stronger. But if things had just been that way, you might not have Samantha. Because you know, you know if you just had any one of those, just one, you would have told Rachel you loved her. And you know, you know you would have had her then. You know because it's in the way Rachel looks at you, the way she smiles at you, the way she touches you. You think a part of you has always known it was always always going to be you and Rachel Berry.

And as you watch her now, your wife, Beth and Samantha— Beth ensconced in Rachel's arms, her smile wide, her eyes loving, her hands holding Beth's tenderly in hers just as Samantha kneels across Beth holding out her hands to tickle, you fall even deeper in ways you didn't know was at all possible. Some days you are selfish, so terribly selfish and you let your mind think about having Beth with you, Rachel and Samantha. You think of perfect Sunday mornings: of waking to Rachel, of boisterous breakfasts in bed with both your daughters making a complete mess of your kitchen as you try to prepare something to surprise your wife. You think of spring days and exploring central park with them running ahead of you as you stroll slowly, your wife's hand in yours. You think of snow days and building pillow and blanket forts, or cold chills and snowmen and snow angels, of summer days and sand castles, waves and hermit crabs. You think of Rachel, you think of Samantha, and you think of Beth. It makes your heart hurt because no one can ever replace Beth just as no one can ever replace Samantha.

But you try not to dwell, because today, today you have all of them.

"They're beautiful…" it's Shelby behind you in the darkness of the hallway. You look at her and give her a warm smile.

"They're perfect." You tell her and she smiles back at you. You reach out a hand and she takes it in hers, clutching it tightly.

"I'm so glad you have each other," her eyes glisten with tears but she blinks them away. It's so reminiscent of what your mother had said on the day of Samantha's birthday and yet the differences are stark. Shelby is partially hidden in the hallway afraid to intrude and she'd never dare call Rachel her baby, and she's going to fight to keep those tears from falling whilst your mother's had flown unrestrained in catharsis.

She makes your heart hurt because she's been so good to you. And because you know how your wife truly feels, you face her, taking both her hands with yours you ask before leading her towards your family. "Isn't it time to be brave?"


	19. Our sundown

It is well after sundown, well after you've finally put a wedding band on Rachel's finger and she on yours to accompany your engagement rings because this time you'd at least had a couple of weeks to prepare—Well after your collective parents, a handful of your former teachers, and most of your old glee family, have in varying degrees cried or blinked back their tears upon your renewing your vows opting for the traditional marital vows divided evenly between Samantha and Beth, the unofficial officiants because your marriage license having been previously filed two weeks prior meant there was no need for a legally licensed officiant to officiate this particular wedding. You had actually asked Kurt to officiate for you just that morning before you were supposed to have gone to check on the venue with Rachel's fathers, who are also now your fathers-in-law with their full knowledge and consent, and though you had genuinely wanted Kurt, who had known both you and Rachel, and have supported you both in your relationship from the very beginning, to officiate, you are pleasantly surprised when it had turned out that after welcoming everyone to the ceremony, he graciously guided your two daughters though the vows.

It is well after that, well after Shelby' singing the song to your first dance, and well after Rachel has trembled in your arms as you kept her in your firm embrace, keeping her tethered as her mother took a piece of her wedding, a piece of her past, a piece of her present, with the possibility of taking a part in her future, and the emotions of what all that meant washed over her—Well after your mother and both her fathers had waded through their tears to give their speeches—Well after Ms. Sylvester had everyone in attendance in stitches with her surprisingly sweet and fond memories of both you and your wife, after Mr. Schuester and Mrs. Pillsbury-Schuesters's inspirational anecdotes of both of your strengths and perseverance, after Mercedes and the current New Directions had performed two sets joined of course by your very own glee family- And well after a couple of crates of bubbly—That you find yourself partially hidden from the crowd, a couple of hundred meters away in your respective traditional white, sitting on top of a picnic bench with your wife in your arms, having stolen away from the crowd to have a few blissful minutes to celebrate the joy of marriage and having your family be a witness to it.

You're far enough from the celebrations that you're partially shrouded in darkness and your grip on your wife tightens as you feel her shiver in your arms as you both look out onto the lake before you, the bright glow and raucous laughter of your friends and family gathered in celebration and song warming your soul. The year is quickly drawing to a close. In a few short months winter and Christmas will be upon you once again and you're truly excited because this year, despite the fiasco months ago, has been your best yet.

Your wife turns in your arms, kissing your neck lightly before moving on to your lips. The kiss is gentle, tender, light, and when she pulls away, she's smiling softly at you. She's so beautiful in the moonlight that your heart twists painfully inside your chest and you cup her face with your right hand as you pull her closer towards you with your left. She laughs softly as she stumbles towards you, her hands gripping your waist tightly to balance herself as she continues to smile as she looks into your eyes.

"I love you," she whispers and you press your lips to hers before enveloping her in an embrace.

"I've loved you forever, Rae." You whisper to her. "I've loved you since forever and I'll love you for the rest of it."

"I know," she says, pulling away from you to look into your eyes and you think it's true, she does know now. "You're all I want Quinn." She adds, "You're all I've always wanted and I'm going to spend the rest of forever wanting you, and knowing you, and loving you."

You're terribly emotional and you're not sure why, but it hardly matters because when Rachel's looking at you the way that she is, when she's holding you just so, you know you can handle anything. You're so immersed in her eyes, in the feel of her in your arms, in the distinct mixture of her favorite perfume and her, that you don't notice your daughters until Samantha is once again barreling into you with Beth in tow.

Rachel disentangles herself from you and you help Samantha get up on the picnic bench, helping her sit on the table. When you turn back to Rachel, Beth is already standing on the bench, Rachel's right arm holding her tightly in a side hug as she whispers something that makes Rachel shake her head and laugh.

Samantha reaches for you, her arms held out in front of her asking to be held and you're quick to acquiesce. You sit beside her, pulling her into your lap, kissing the top of her head. You take a deep breath and hug her tightly as you think about how quickly she is growing. It is getting more difficult to carry her, she's getting bigger and soon you'll have to be sterner with her about tackling people because as adorable it has always been, as adorable as it still is, she's close to injuring herself and others by her baby girl antics, and truly you do not want to because as much as you want to see her flourish into the young lady she is going to be, you also want her to remain your baby girl for as long as possible.

"Mommy," Beth says, and your heart twists painfully again with the intensity of love you feel in this moment. Another baby girl you know will always be yours despite being many miles away from you also growing up much too quickly.

"Yes, baby girl?" You manage to say, as Samantha wraps your arms around her. It's a name you don't often call her, careful not to overstep, but when she's alone like this with you, when she calls you mommy, you take advantage of her being yours, yours and only yours with no one to hurt.

"Mom said if it's okay with you and Rach, she'll take me and Antha to see Frozen on Broadway during Christmas break." Beth says.

"Please, mommy?" Samantha is quick to add, pulling your arms around her tightly. "And Bethy can sleep over too, please?"

Samantha is quick to pout as she looks up at you, perhaps already having an inkling at her young age at its power to get her much of what she wants. You nuzzle her nose with yours and she giggles. When your eyes meet Rachel's they gaze into you warily for a few moments before she tears them away to look at Beth.

"I dunno, Lizzie-Beth" You hear Rachel try to say playfully and she mostly succeeds, looking tenderly at your daughter. "Your sister hasn't exactly been on her best behavior, I'm not sure she knows how to sit still in a theater."

Samantha is out of your arms in the next instant launching herself at Rachel and you scramble to get off the table and try to make sure they don't topple over. Beth's eyes widen in surprise as Rachel is pulled away from her and she immediately reaches out a hand to try and keep Rachel from losing her balance. Beth is neither strong enough nor quick enough and frankly, with your younger daughter's seemingly warped speed neither are you and she and Rachel end up in a heap on the ground.

"Antha!" You and Beth say simultaneously as Rachel groans from under her.

Beth hops down from her place on the bench, pulling Antha off of Rachel as you help your wife up. Samantha continues to pout as Beth frowns at her. You check your wife quickly for any injuries, running your hands all over her and she merely pulls you into her, groaning in your ear exasperatedly murmuring something about your daughter being a hellion before satisfied that she is quite unhurt, you turn your attention back to your girls.

Your forehead crinkles and your brow shoots up when you hear Beth sternly scolding Samantha. You watch quietly, Rachel pressed up against you equally quiet, as Samantha pouts at Beth. Beth doesn't waver, stern as an old English school marm she makes her sister apologize to Rachel. Rachel chuckles next to you as she takes Samantha into her arms and Samantha burrows into her apologetically. You beam at Beth and she gives you a small smile back. You hold your arms out for her and she walks in gingerly, carefully, as she hugs you. You pull her up, carrying her even though she is much much too tall now to be carried and you revel at the feel of her in your arms. You breathe in her scent, kissing the top of her head before you sit on the ground, it's not like you're ever going to wear your wedding gown again, regardless of how absolutely gorgeous it is, pulling her into your lap. Rachel and Samantha follow suit and you note that Samantha is still pouting quietly and you bite back a chuckle.

"What do you think, Momma?" You ask Rachel, your eyes twinkling.

Rachel's eyes meet yours and you see just a hint of worry in them but she keeps her tone light, "We'll practice theater etiquette and then maybe when this little one stops acting like a quarterback we can consider it."

"Please, Momma…" Samantha says quietly, her lip wobbling a little as her eyes are quick to fill with tears.

Beth is quick to take Samantha's hand and then she's looking up at your wife pleadingly as well, "Please, Rach…"

Rachel's face falls quickly and you squeeze her hand. You know her worries, her fears. But God, with these two little girls your wife is an absolute pushover. "Yes, baby girl, you can go." She breathes quickly. "You just need to promise to listen to Beth, okay? And… And Shelby. You need to listen to and be good for Shelby, okay?"

Samantha is quick to nod, her face breaking into a watery smile but she wipes at her tears quickly. You smile reassuringly at Rachel, squeezing her hand once again as you place a soft kiss on her lips. "It'll be fine." You whisper to her. "She'll be fine." You mean both Samantha and Shelby. "We'll be fine." You really mean her. She's tense for a moment, she knows, she understands even though you don't quite say it. And you keep looking into her eyes, willing her to see what you don't say. And she nods slowly, deliberately, before crashing her lips onto yours, taking comfort in your kiss, your touch, as you are both forced to grow in ways you aren't always prepared to. "Right here," you whisper, her eyes looking into yours, "I'm right here. Always."

"It's okay if I sleep over instead of staying at a hotel with Mom?" Beth asks, twisting to look at you and Rachel and Samantha does the same on Rachel's lap.

You smile at her, twisting one of her curls around your finger. "You're always welcome to stay with us, baby. Always, and always and always." She giggles happily and Samantha beams excitedly before she's wrapping Rachel's arms around her much as she had done with yours earlier. The girls chatter on excitedly about watching Frozen on stage and you allow their voices to wash over you as immersed in the presence of the three people you love most in the world, you vow to remember everything about this moment when your family is blissfully complete.

When the fireworks go off, you turn towards Rachel who looks pleasantly surprised as both your girls look up at the sky in awe. You watch their faces instead of the sky above you and you marvel at how utterly lucky you have been in the last few years, how each day you have them is a blessing, how each smile, each laugh, each touch is a gift, how their very lives are your most favorite miracles.

You get to your feet and head back to your friends and family soon after the fireworks display is over, it's getting steadily colder as the night deepens and you're worried the girls, or your wife will catch a cold. And as the girls run before you, hands clasped, you hook your wife's arm with yours, unwilling to let her be further away from you than is strictly necessary. You're a mere handful of meters away from the celebration when you both see your younger daughter climbing into Shelby's lap as Beth stands in front of them.

Rachel stops beside you, silently watching them for a few moments before turning to you. "She's been good, hasn't she?"

You smile encouragingly at her. "Yes."

She turns back towards them before she whispers, "She's been really good."

"She has," you respond just as softly.

"I've been horrible."

"Never." You say firmly because it's true. "But maybe it's time you give her a another chance too."

"Maybe." She agrees noncommittally.

You know that's a yes and when you smile at her, she rolls her eyes in response before pulling you towards her, firmly wrapping her arms around you. "I love you, Rae." You tell her. "And I'm so proud of you."

She frowns at you and whines. "You better have my back."

"Every day, baby." You promise seriously. You know she's worried but she's also ready for this, and you know, you know she can handle this.

She sighs before rolling her eyes at you again. "Come on, Quinn Fabray." She says, pulling you towards the stage. "Dance with your wife."


	20. Joy and Beauty

It so happens that New York's first snowfall of the season falls on the night of Beth's third day in New York and it's seeing the delight and excitement in both her and Samantha, and yes, the fact that Quinn isn't there to see the marvel and awe on their faces that finally makes you quit your job at the hotel because there's no way you're going to miss Beth and Samantha's first snowfall together, not even for triple the pay. The truth is you've been meaning to quit for a couple of weeks now, you'd already spoken to your advisers and professors about the few requirements you still lack for graduation and you'd already renegotiated the administrative hours you work stipulated in your scholarship now that you know which Broadway and Off-Broadway productions you actually want to audition for. You'd meant what you'd said to Quinn, the stage, for you, is inevitable. You have the passion, you have the training, you have the skill, the voice, the fire. You'll make it, you know it. It was always just a matter of stepping back, reorganizing, reprioritizing, reworking, remembering, and finally choosing.

But on this day, none of the planning really factored into it- all that do are the way that Samantha's and Beth's eyes light up as they watch the beginnings of snow fall on your city. New York is your city. It's how you've always felt. Sometimes you feel it beat and throb- its lifeblood against your palm, feel its breath in the cold wind, feel it dance when its people laugh, feel it cry when it rains, feel it rage when it storms, feel it grow when the colors change, feel it forgive when the birds sing, feel it love when the snow falls. New York and the stage have been calling, but it's a call you've been diverting, a call that's been left to wait until you're certain it will not cost you that which you want more than anything in the world.

Five years ago, you knew this would happen. You knew that the life growing inside you would spark the beginning of the end for most of what you had planned for from the moment you could sing, and you had been terrified. And though you were wrong about a lot of things that was one thing you were not wrong about. Broadway, your first love, was no longer going to be your greatest and would forevermore take a backseat to that which is.

You were right, of course. The stage is no longer your greatest love. Your passion for music and theater and performing hasn't decreased, if anything you feel a deeper and fuller appreciation for the art, the words, stories, chords and steps reverberating even more with your soul in ways you weren't ready for and couldn't possibly fathom in your youth. It is simply that one smile from your daughter fills you with such... Warmth and life. It is as though her very soul touches your own and nothing else compares to the love you feel for your child. And now, Beth. Beth. Little baby Beth now eight and sweet, and smart and beautiful and kind. She's your Lizzie-Beth, it's a name you claim, a name you know your wife is afraid to. Puck had named her, you know, and you also know how Quinn had struggled with letting him do that and how hesitant she'd been, how worried and afraid she was to also choose, to compromise and name the child they had created. Elizabeth Fabray. Little Lizzie Fabray so innocent and pure and utterly angelic.

And you know she isn't. Really you do. She's a Corcoran. Beth Corcoran is who she is. But you can't help it. Baby Beth. Puck's Beth. Your Lizzie-Beth. Quinn's little Elizabeth.

She is eight. Eight. And Quinn has gone from merely Quinn to mommy in the past few years and you know even when you try to ignore it, even when you don't acknowledge it, even when you keep her at a distance- you know Shelby has been good to your family and that she would never hurt Beth by taking her from Quinn, but still Quinn won't take more than what is blatantly given. So you claim her for Quinn. You claim her for Quinn and your daughter. And some days you claim her for you.

Because when Samantha is beaming up at her sister in adoration and you see how patient and understanding and tender, and how utterly loving Beth is, your whole world pulses with such sheer joy and perfection that Broadway can't possibly quite compare. Some days you feel like she's yours. Some days you're selfish, utterly utterly selfish and wish she were yours, because the way you feel about her, the way you love her, it doesn't much differ from the way you love Samantha. It's impossible not to love her, you think, absolutely impossible not to love this child your wife has made.

Her kindness makes you ache. The way she smiles, the way she laughs. Her thoughtfulness, her quiet, her affection and sincerity. And truly you feel a sort of fear because you know she isn't staying and you already love her so much you know your heart will now long for her presence even more than it has in the past. She can't stay because Shelby is as much her mother as Quinn is. Yes, as much, because Shelby has allowed Quinn to be that, and despite the war your heart, head and soul constantly wage at the topic of Beth's adoption, thinking about her as anything other than Quinn's has always been one of the most difficult for you. And so even when you don't say it, even when the walls you've erected to protect your heart against Shelby are tall and strong, the cracks her goodness has dealt in the past five years are massive and extensive and seeing how beautiful and pure Beth is under her care is threatening to completely collapse them.

You take liberties with Beth that Quinn does not. Your brashness comes from anger towards Shelby, it comes from fire and challenge and daring. From a punishment you try hard but fail not to inflict. And it comes from love for your wife, and while it comes also from fire and challenge and daring, it is the kind spurned by a need to protect and guard. But Beth is beautiful and kind and pure and innocent. And even if she is all of that because your wife is all of that, Shelby has nurtured it, nourished it, brought it out and allowed it to flourish. She has protected it, and guarded it and guided it in a way Judy Fabray, though you love her, had not been able to do for her own child.

And so even when you are wary, even when you are afraid, even when your heart twists with the memories of rejection, you try to forgive Shelby. You try to forgive her for Samantha because you see she adores and dotes on your child. You try to forgive her for Quinn because you know your wife is beyond grateful for being allowed to be a part of Beth's life. You try to forgive her for Beth because Beth is perfect and truly, you've never been so willing to go through pain and heartache if it means she'd come out exactly as she is now, pure and innocent and free. And you forgive her for you. You forgive her for yourself because the only real way you can stay angry with her is if you refused to see all the good she's brought into your lives, if you refused to see the power she's given you over her and even over Beth.

And so you were right. With Shelby, Quinn would never truly lose Beth because even when your mother had walked away from you a second time, you knew she wouldn't stay away. Perhaps even couldn't. You knew because even then she was your mother. You saw it, you felt it, you knew it, even when Shelby herself was too afraid to see and form the words. She is your mother.

There's giggling coming from your girls, yes yours, today they are both yours, as they look out onto the street, their faces pressed against the cold glass of the windows and you can't help but snap a couple of pictures so your wife can see. You even take a video because you want to forever preserve the sound of their joy. You send it all quickly to your wife and hope she's done soon with her new season's first read-through because as proud as you are of her and as excited as she is by the series moving to a new network and the promise of new and bigger challenges for her character, Beth's time with you is precious and limited.

Your phone immediately buzzes with an array of heart emoticons and you smile because you also don't have words for the adorable sight of your girls. And then a question comes through - You're not at work?

You roll your eyes, not that she can see, but you know she'll be ecstatic to hear- Quit.

And then you add for good measure - Promised L & A a walk and hot chocolate. Come home soon.

The reply is instantaneous and your heart skips a beat because it's as though you can hear her say it and you feel a shiver of anticipation- Love you. On my way.

"Momma," Samantha says twisting away from the window to face you, claiming your full attention. "when's mommy gonna be home?"

"Soon, sweetheart." You reply, making your way over to them, "Real soon." You head over to the main light switch and turn the lights off so the apartment is drenched in darkness and only the Christmas tree's lights are on, bathing the place in holiday glow. Samantha claps in glee and you note serenity in Beth's face as you pull both of them away from the windows, an arm around each child, and drag them towards the couch. There are both Catholic and Jewish traditional holiday trappings, though not many at all- a tree, a menorah, a smattering of presents.

Samantha squirms, turning to twist every which way as she tracks the edges of the lights with her eyes, seeing how far they reach, noting everything they illuminate as Beth simply snuggles into you, eyes trained on the tree and the flickering lights, her head on your chest as you run your fingers through her hair. It's quiet. Even Samantha is quiet in her restlessness and you're able to hear the sounds of life from the other apartments and from down on the streets. You pull Samantha closer to you and finally, she settles, her fingers playing with yours. You kiss the top of her head, and then Beth's, and you pray. You pray that whatever else may happen, whatever challenges, distance, and changes the years may bring, that Elizabeth and Samantha will always have each other. You pray for strength, you pray for love, and you pray for joy. You pray that the world allows their spirits to flourish, that they grow in light.

And you thank the universe. You thank the universe for the way Quinn felt that day Beth was made, you thank the universe for each time Quinn pushed you to leave Lima, you thank the universe for the day Quinn bought those metro passes, the day you saw those 2 pink lines and that somehow you were able to make your way to Quinn and for her being with you every step of the way since. You thank the universe for Antha. You thank the universe for Lizzie-Beth. And you thank the universe for Quinn.

There's so much you are grateful for because despite the number of times you have fallen, failed, and faltered, you've somehow made it here to this moment and it is BEAUTIFUL. Samantha and Elizabeth are precious, and kind and heartrendingly beautiful, your wife is amazing and strong and is herself beauty personified, and your life... Your life is filled with art and love, and each day your heart is full of warmth and joy and beauty.

Samantha is jumping out of your arms before the door is even open and even Lizzie-Beth bounces excitedly next to you as you turn to watch your wife walk through the doorway. Her hair looks windswept, her cheeks red, likely from the cold, her coat riddled with quickly melting snow. She catches your youngest swiftly in her arms, dropping her bag on the floor as she kicks the door closed. Your heart races as her eyes catch yours and you squeeze Beth gently as Quinn steadily makes her way towards the two of you, Samantha in her arms.

"Hi, baby girl." She says to Beth, kissing her forehead and Beth reaches up to wrap her arms around Quinn's neck in an embrace. You give them a moment before tugging Beth into your lap and pulling Quinn towards you by her scarf and giving her a firm kiss on the lips. Lizzie-Beth giggles in your arms and regretfully you pull away. Quinn unceremoniously deposits Antha on top of Beth before she pulls you back in for a deeper kiss. And then both girls are giggling as you and Quinn break for air and you think that this must be the happiest moment of your life.

"Have you both been good for momma?" Quinn asks raspily, settling down beside you and pulling Samantha off of Beth's lap and into hers. She throws an arm around your shoulders pulling you closer to her as she presses another kiss to your cheek and you smile warmly at her before snuggling in.

Beth nods in your lap as Samantha launches into an account of everything she and Beth have done since Quinn left the apartment that morning, even specifying the number of macadamia crusted fish fingers she ate (three) with her tomato soup. Quinn listens to everything intently, soaking up all she's missed in the day. It's yet another of the things you love about your wife, how fully she loves.

"Mommy, can we make angels in the snow now?"

"There isn't enough snow for angels yet, baby girl." Quinn responds patiently.

"But maybe there will be when we wake up tomorrow," Beth is quick to placate and you tighten your hold on her, kissing her temple.

Samantha reaches out her hands to take Beth's and pouts, "But we'll still walk tonight? And chocolate?"

"Coats, boots, scarves and mittens." Quinn laughs as she yells the last bit as both Samantha and Beth are out of your laps and running into the bedroom to presumably put on as Quinn has instructed. You take the moment alone to climb into her lap, straddling her as you lay your head at the crook of her neck. You holds you tightly for a moment, placing a soft kiss against your temple and then behind your ear.

"Thank you." You whisper against her.

"For what, baby?"

"Everything." You tell her earnestly, moving to look into her eyes. "For the girls. For you. For this night. For every day that's led up to this and for every day after."

Her eyes look back at you softly, but she doesn't immediately respond, only placing a gentle kiss on your lips as she gazes into your eyes. "I wouldn't want this with anybody else." She finally whispers. "No one, Rae. Just you."

And as the girls drag you and your wife out onto the cold streets of your city, you're beyond exalted that it's you. That she's chosen you. And whether the future falls somewhere along these lines or somewhere, something, somehow, somewhat a lot different, you know one thing is certain, you'll make sure all paths lead to this moment with your wife, with your girls, with this family.

**Along these lines - 2019**


	21. Illustrations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All illustrations for this work are commissioned and not my work.


End file.
